


The Sum of Its Parts

by williamspockspeare



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Additional tags in notes, And Vulcan Spock I guess lol, Angst, Episode: s01e04 The Enemy Within (Star Trek), Fluff, Human Spock, Love Confessions, M/M, Spock fights himself, Swearing, The Enterprise crew being absolutely confused, Transporter Malfunction, Two Spocks, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamspockspeare/pseuds/williamspockspeare
Summary: "Entirely disparate, and certainly not identical, yet their bone structure, the colour and quality of their eyes, their build, every identifying biological feature was exactly the same.He gestured to the pair. “Both of you are. Aren’t you?”“That is correct, captain,” said the Vulcan. “We are Spock.”A transporter malfunction causes Spock to split into his Human and Vulcan halves, which brings new revelations about his identity, and his feelings for his captain.





	1. Fracture

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all - back again with my Spirk nonsense. As a writer I find it hard to write plot, so I structured this one after a TOS episode. Let me know how you like it with a kudos/comment! And I love talking about my work, or even just Trek in general, for which you can find me on Tumblr: fictionandtheatre.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading - enjoy!

“ _Captain – we’ve got a mighty big problem on our hands!_ ”

That was an unwelcome phrase on any day of the week. But coming in the midst of phaser fire from a Romulan ship – with the ship already banking hard to keep in orbit, communication with Starfleet Command down, and Doctor McCoy in his ear about the lives at stake in the research facility below – it seemed a bit redundant.

“Not now, Mr. Scott!” Jim practically yelled into the comm., tensing with the rest of the crew as a streak of phaser fire clipped the edge of the ship, sending shock waves through the Bridge. “Just divert as much power to the forward shields as you can.”

“Romulan ship is taking position at mark oh-one-five—”

“ _I’m givin’ her all she’s got, captain! If we take another direct hit, the ship’ll blow apart!_ ”

“The ship!” Bones slammed his hands on the guardrail in frustration. “Dammit Scotty, what about us?”

“ _I’m trying to tell ye—_ ”

“Scotty, not now!”

Whether it was something about this planet, the sudden attack, or else a crew in desperate need of a shore leave, the friction between the senior officers was escalating beyond recent memory. The ship was unbalanced, on a far deeper level than the effect of Delta X’s gravity.

“Sulu, continue evasive action, and have photon torpedoes on stand-by.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Lieutenant Uhura, what’s Mr. Spock’s status?”

“He reported for beam-up ten minutes ago. Why he isn’t on the Bridge—”

“ _That’s what I’m trying to say!_ ” Scotty’s tone sounded more panicked than usual. “ _It’s Mr. Spock – we cannae get a lock on his transporter signal._ ”

Jim turned to look at the comm. device at his side. “The whole party won’t transport, you mean?”

“ _No, sir. I’ve got the team of researchers with me, but for some reason we can’t get Spock._ ”

A few feet away, McCoy muttered something vaguely dark about transporter mortality rates and ‘technical mumbo-jumbo’. Jim ignored him.

“Explain.”

“ _I can’t! We got his signal, but we cannae get it to go through! The whole transporter system is in a gridlock. If he stays any longer outside of materialization, I won’t be able to keep his atoms together for much longer_.”

The crew around him dissolved into concerned murmurs. Jim felt a thrill of cold run down his spine. McCoy stepped down beside him, was saying something, but Jim barely registered his voice. The fate Mr. Scott described was horrible, agonizing, something he wouldn’t have wished on his worst enemy. The fact that it could happen to Spock, his first officer, his friend, his…

He restrained himself. He was captain – and he didn’t have the luxury to dwell on fear.

“Mr. Scott, I need my first officer in one piece.”

“ _I’m doing all I can, captain, but—_ ”

“I could do it.”

Jim looked around to meet Janice Rand, who stepped away from her station.

“I’ve applied for advanced training in transporter console operation – I’m sure it’s the energy output from the Romulan phasers that are overloading our system. With your permission, sir?”

“Granted. Hurry.”

Janice dashed to the turbo lift. Another streak of phaser fire from the Romulan ship flashed across the view screen, the ship itself hurtling past a moment later.

“They keep circling us, captain.” Sulu ran a quick, agitated hand through his hair, looking back briefly. “I don’t understand it.”

“Nor do I,” Jim said quietly. Something about the whole attack felt wrong. He wished Spock had been here, because there had to be a logical inconsistency, something they were missing.

He ran over the facts in his head.

The Romulan ship wasn’t moving in the customary battle trajectory, nor with any kind of strategy Jim could see. As the Enterprise had been stuck in orbit to transport the researchers off the planet, the Romulans should have strafed them, taken them out while their shields were down. Instead, the vessel had orbited around them purposelessly – taking parabolic banks around Delta X.

Almost as if…

Jim bounced his fist against the arm of the captain’s chair in realization.

“Spock, run a diagnostic on the Romulan vessel’s engines.”

“Um…Wessel engine diagnostic coming, sir.”

Jim blinked at the unexpected voice of Chekov. Looking over, however, he recalled where his first officer was, and the mistake he had just made.  
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mister Chekov.”

“Sir!” Chekov sounded in awe, looking up from his scanner. “That is it! The engines – they are being compromised by the planet’s gravity. I do not think they have any control at all. The planet - it is like a black hole!”

“Mister Scott, does that describe the effort exerted on our engines?”

“ _Aye, sir! To the letter!_ ”

“Well, if that’s true for them, it’s gotta be true for us too.” McCoy said, arms folded doubtfully. “I’m no physicist, but it seems like the more our ship fights against the gravity, the more we’re pulled in!”

“Exactly. Let’s give it less to work with.” Jim opened a channel to the engineering deck. “Prepare to power down engines. Sulu, once we’ve escaped the gravity of the planet, steer us ahead mark four-point five-nine. I don’t want to risk using warp.”

“Yes, sir.”

“ _All ready in engineering._ ”

“Power down, Mister Scott.”

There was a whine from engines’ cooling down in the ship’s hull, and a slight jolt, before the ship suddenly shuddered forward, and out of the orbital trap.

“ _Captain?_ ”

It was Janice Rand’s voice. Jim hit the comm. button quickly.

“Status report.”

“ _I’ve got a read on Mister Spock’s signal. Whatever manoeuvres you just made decreased the interference down here. He’s beaming now._ ”

The crew visibly relaxed. Jim allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

“Have Mr. Spock report to the Bridge as soon as you have him.”

“ _Yes, sir._ ”

“Sensors indicate that the Romulan ship just crashed into the planet, sir.” Sulu adjusted the last coordinate reading, before looking back with a grin. “I don’t think they’ll be following us any time soon.”

“Good. Cancel red alert. Mr. Scott, return engines to full power, as slow as possible. Lieutenant Uhura, issue a standard non-Federation incident report for Starfleet transmission.”

“Aye, sir. We’ve already regained communication with Starfleet channels. All systems normal.”

“ _Captain?_ ”

The voice was Janice Rand’s, from the intercom. It was not her confident, professional normal – sounding bewildered instead, even in only a word.

He braced himself for the worst. “What is it, yeoman?”

“ _Uh_.” There was a sound, like a sigh or perhaps a stifled laugh, from the other end. “ _Sir, you’re going to want to come down here_.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“ _Well…_ ”

“Yeoman, I need an answer. Where is Mr. Spock?”

“ _That’s…kind of the trouble, captain. I’m not sure._ ”

“Whaddya mean, you’re not sure?” McCoy barked. “With ears like that, it’s a pretty low margin for error.”

“Bones,” Jim scolded, giving him a look before turning back to the comm device. “Try to explain.”

“ _I…just…you’d better see for yourself._ ”

Glancing up at McCoy, he was met with a similarly puzzled, if more exasperated expression.

“I’ll be right down. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. You’d better come with me, Bones.”

“Sure, Jim,” he said, seeming lost in thought about what Yeoman Rand could mean.

They made the trip to the transporter room in record time. Thoughts of transporter malfunction training protocols, and the images of contorted, twisted specimens used to demonstrate how dangerous the familiar tool could become swarmed in his mind. He furiously pushed aside any notion of his first officer in such agony – or much worse.

The door to the transporter room swished open.

“Now, yeoman, what exactly is—”

But his words failed as he saw who stood before him.

There were two men on the transporter platform. One was human, though, from his self-examination, he seemed entirely perplexed by that fact. The other, Vulcan, stood unmoving at his side, surveying the room with the coldness of a totally logical being.

“…the problem,” Jim finished, weakly.

“Hello, captain,” both men said at once, giving each other a pointed look as they recognized their simultaneous action.

“Doctor McCoy,” said the Vulcan, with as much personality as the computer readout. He raised one eyebrow, while the human smirked at the doctor’s spluttering response.

“Where did they come from? Who are they?” McCoy was looking wildly from where Janice shrugged to Jim, who stood transfixed. “Jim! Snap out of it! Where the hell is Spock?”

“He’s…”

But Jim couldn’t find the words to explain the obvious and the absurd.

Entirely disparate, and certainly not identical, yet their bone structure, the colour and quality of their eyes, their build, every identifying biological feature was exactly the same.

He gestured to the pair. “Both of you are. Aren’t you?”

“That is correct, captain,” said the Vulcan. “We are Spock.”

Jim was adrift in a strange mixture of worry and wonder, looking again between the two. “Fascinating.”

“Indeed. It would seem that the transporter malfunction has caused Spock to separate into us; his Vulcan and Human halves, respectively. Although, this may be a premature generalization, as the notion of dividing an inter-species individual by such qualifications is traditionally ideologically driven, rather than bio—”

“I can’t believe this.” McCoy clapped a hand to his forehead. “You mean you two – both of them…?!”

“Really, doctor.” The Human Spock produced a low laugh, which only served to bewilder McCoy more. “For a man obsessed with seeking out my human side, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Yeoman, is there any chance of joining the two together again?”

Rand shrugged. “I’ve tried, captain. It would seem that normal beaming conditions aren’t strong enough to put them back together.”

“Well, Bones.” Jim turned to the doctor, at a loss. “In the meantime, I suppose we’ll just have to learn to live with two Spocks.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Bones said in an undertone. “I think I need a sick day.”


	2. The Vulcan Way

The facts ended up like this.

Spock, er, Vulcan Spock’s analysis of the situation had been correct, as usual. For all intents and purposes, the two were biological duplicates, practically the same man – if not for the obvious differences. The gravity of Delta X had caused a strange magnetic energy to disturb the transporter signal, tearing Spock’s genetic code into his two biological halves.

Only this anomaly had a chance of re-integrating the two. To replicate the necessary energy, they would have to slingshot the Enterprise around the planet, while attempting to beam Mr. Spock back into one piece.

The only trouble remained with the warp core, which had been weakened in the effort of maintaining a depreciating orbit around the planet. All signs indicated that it would be at least a day before the Enterprise engines would have enough power to handle the unique gravitational pull again.

Thus, in the meantime, the problem became how to pass the time with two first officers.

It was strange. Jim should have been more worried about what trouble the pair might cause. Hell, his own experience with splitting in two had wreaked havoc on the ship – as Doctor McCoy had been quick to remind him.

But knowing how it felt, Jim thought of how much each of his own halves had suffered. It was easy to get lost in chaos, the overwhelming realization that you no longer held the answers to your own identity. It was difficult to accept you could no longer trust yourself.

So, while the crew around him chattered quietly about what the two Spocks might do, Jim sat alone in his captain’s chair, thinking darkly about what Mr. Spock must feel.

He hadn’t seen the pair since their physicals.

Neither had spoken much. They had merely confirmed that they were in good health, and that they would update him on any further changes.

It seemed the Human Spock had wanted to say more, from the glimmer in his eyes, and the distant smile that hailed Jim from across sickbay. The Vulcan, however, kept their conversation brief, standing at attention between them, as if to guard his human half from Jim’s advance.

Jim marvelled that they kept such close contact with each other. In his own split experience, after all, he’d tried to murder himself. Negotiation had been the furthest thing from his mind – uh, minds.

Yet, maybe that was because he never thought of himself as having separate parts, never needed to. Perhaps being assigned the label of either human or Vulcan for his whole life had prepared Spock for such a unique phenomenon. Maybe it was so simple, and so binary, after all. 

“I am reporting for alpha shift, sir.”

Jim was startled out of his reverie by a voice at his side.

“Oh, Mr. Spock!”

It was the Vulcan half who stood beside him. This Spock retained the most physical similarity to his normal self (the pointed ears helped). Logically, Jim should have found more comfort in his presence – but there was something entirely unnerving about this alien.

Yes, alien was the right word. It didn’t feel like his Spock at all. His gaze was devoid of, well, anything, expression fixed in an unreadable, unapproachable stoicism. In fact, matching his unwavering stare was proving to be an exercise in mental fortitude.

“I thought you were supposed to be in sickbay.”

“Dr. M’Benga certified that I am fit for active service.” It was incredible how featureless, how utterly monotone this Spock’s delivery was. The ship’s computer sounded chipper in comparison. “Nevertheless, it is Starfleet regulation that officers confirm their assignments with their captain before assuming duty.”

“Oh.”

He shouldn’t be so thrown. After all, it wasn’t like he’d never met this Spock – if anything, this should be the familiar one.

It was only logical, then, to treat him the same.

He flashed the Vulcan one of his most charming smiles. “Very well. Permission to come aboard, Mr. Spock.”

The Spock that Jim knew would have raised his brow, the corners of his lips might have twitched in amusement. This Vulcan barely batted an eye.

“I did not ask for that, captain.”

Jim was a bit taken aback by his abruptness, and the fact that he already strode to his seat at the science station. Chekov practically fled at his approach, several shades paler from his stony gaze alone.

He frowned. “Mr. Spock?”

The Vulcan pivoted on his heel in a perfect 180.

“Yes, captain?”

“I—” There was probably no point in commenting on his tone – that would only invite a logical protest of ignorance toward any wrongdoing. So, Jim settled on another point of concern. “I haven’t told you what your assignment will be for this shift.”

“I assume it is a continuation in cataloguing significant activity within this sector’s solar systems?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I do not need clarification.”

“I also want you to look into the transporter anomaly.” Jim bit down on the frustration already building from this Spock’s obstinacy. “The sooner we solve this problem, the better.”

The Vulcan raised a brow at that, but said nothing beyond, “Acknowledged.”

Jim realized that was a bit cold on his part. Not to mention how ironic it was for him, a captain with a historically high injury-to-mission ratio, to call Spock a problem. But, hell, this was like talking to brick wall, never mind someone with a pulse!

Still, this was Spock. A part of Spock. And it was Jim’s duty as a captain to treat his first officer with respect, and his privilege as Spock’s friend to offer kindness where he could. 

He offered him a small smile. “Apologies, Mr. Spock.”

“I am not offended.” The Vulcan sat down in his seat. “I shall begin my work now, if there are no further instructions.”

“No instructions. But we could have a discussion, nonetheless.”

A series of blinks responded to the suggestion. “A discussion about my duties, captain?”

“No, about…well, anything you’d like.”

“Hm.” Spock turned his head slightly, without changing one inch of his expression. “I do not see why we should.”

Jim shifted backward in his seat, hurt. What was he to say to that? They always talked at top of shift, whether it was relevant to their duties or not. Spock – his Spock – had always met him halfway in their friendship, or at least in their partnership as a command team. Did this Spock not value that, even if only as part of his duty?

Something, however, shifted in Spock’s expression as he observed Jim – although it could have been because he blinked.

“Ah. You wish to assess my ability to interact on an interpersonal level, due to the phenomenological change I have undergone. Is that correct?”

Jim attempted to hide his bruised ego. It was no compliment that this Spock only wanted to talk with him as far as confirming his own sanity.

“Let’s consider that the reason, sure.”

“Logical.” Spock turned fully in his chair to face Jim. “I accept. Please begin the conversation.”

At the comm. station, Uhura started snickering into her hand. The Vulcan looked to her with some concern, and little comprehension of what could possibly make her laugh.

“You know what, Spock? Never mind.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed, visibly analysing him as Jim stood from his chair.

“Have I committed an error?” He glanced again to Uhura, and back. “It is not customary to leave directly after expressing a desire for communication. I reiterate that I am willing to comply with the analysis.”

“I’m not in the mood for analysis.”

“The mood, sir?” He pronounced it with as much unfamiliarity as if Jim had dropped a Tellarite word into casual conversation. “I do not believe mood is a necessary qualification for—”

“Spock.” Jim raised a belaying hand, bringing it to pass over his brow briefly. “Forget it. You’re obviously able to perform your duty. Testing you would just be redundant.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He resisted the urge to sigh.

“I’m heading to sickbay. Consider this a test of your command abilities, Mr. Spock.”

“Sickbay, captain?”

“Yes. Sickbay.” Jim turned back, also not in the mood to have every sentence dissected. “Any objections?”

“I assume you intend to speak with my other half.”

Jim made to speak, but hesitated. Because what logical reason would Spock have to question that? There was something peculiar, maybe even emotional behind such an action. 

“Yes, I was going to.” He decided to test his suspicion. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, captain.” There was a pause for the length of three blinks, in which Spock seemed to recalculate him. “Unless that was the test of my abilities.”

“Never mind.”

Striding away, he ignored the flurry of quiet chuckles from the crew around him. Hopefully, the other Spock would prove better conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control for posting updates, so please enjoy this chapter! Updates may be a bit slower in future, as my work starts to ramp up - but I'll try my best to get new chapters out in a reasonable time. Thanks as always for reading - and let me know what you think!


	3. Emotional Bargaining

The Human Spock, though he looked virtually the same, was a whole other story.

“Captain!”

This Spock seemed to brighten by a hundred watts upon noticing him. An ecstatic smile spread across his face, though it transformed into a grimace as McCoy stuck him with a hypo.

“I’m glad you’re here. Regulation says both the doctor and the captain need to clear officers for duty, so your arrival is very timely. And, speaking of doctors, would you watch it?” he muttered, rubbing his arm as McCoy prepped another in a likely long line of inoculations. “I have weak nerve endings.”

McCoy snorted. “You mean you have strong nerve endings. Weak nerves wouldn’t feel pain as well.”

“Oh, come, Bones, it’s the same thin—ow!”

An aggressive hypo to the bicep had provoked the yelp. Spock glared with the deepest offence Jim had ever seen; McCoy clucked in response, the kind of sound mothers used to say _see, I told you that would happen, but did you listen?_ Jim had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

“I told you to quit calling me that.”

“Why? When I was my full self, you practically begged me to call you Bones.”

When a small ' _hm_!' of laughter escaped from Jim, despite his efforts (and McCoy’s scowling), Spock nodded eagerly.

“It’s true, captain! He’s asked one hundred and… seven-ish times. You said it would improve camaraderie amongst the senior crew if I did. It’s very inconsistent of you to go back on that now.”

“Well, I did, so you’ll just have to deal,” McCoy grumbled, flipping open his PADD.

Spock smirked, seeming to count himself victorious. “Oh, but _I’m_ the illogical one. Sure.”

It was a funny experience seeing Spock outside of his alien ways. This Spock’s hair was a little longer, less neat, his bangs swept to one side instead of their usual precise clip.

Strangely, he reminded Jim of the guys he had known at the Academy – the ones who’d debate professors for the amusement of their under-classmates. With his human expressions, and rounded ears, he wasn’t far off in looks, either. Jim remembered distinctly how stupidly attractive those boys had seemed in his youth. They were exactly the kind whose bed he used to end up in by reading week.

Oh, God. He shouldn’t be thinking that. That wasn’t a fair comparison to make about his first officer – certainly not when he was incapacitated (Was he incapacitated? He’d have to check the technical definition). Jim willed himself to shake those thoughts out of his head, and quick.

Luckily, the only thing he had missed was the continued bickering of his senior officers.

McCoy rolled his eyes. “I only bugged you about it because I knew you’d never do it. For cryin’ out loud, if I’d known you were gonna turn into an annoying human on me—”

“Oh, are you playing the insult card? Captain, Doctor McCoy is breaching Starfleet code which says that—”

“Oh, dry up, you boring ex-Vulcan.”

“All right, gentlemen, all right.” It was good to know that Spock’s talent for arguing hadn’t gotten lost in the mix. “Let him have his fun, Bones. You did encourage him, after all.”

Bones made a vaguely disgusted noise.

“Alright! But there is some serious favouritism happenin’ on this ship – and I won’t stand for it!” 

Nevertheless, he didn’t seem inclined to do anything about it – McCoy simply snatched up his PADD and grumbled off.

At last, Jim allowed himself to laugh. Beside him, Spock chuckled at McCoy’s retreat. When he shut the door to his office firmly behind him, they turned back to each other.

Their eyes met.

Spock looked away quickly, his cheeks taking on a very human pink. “I’m glad you came. Did I say that already?”

Jim grinned. “I think so.”

“Mm." He frowned, nose scrunching as he passed a hand through his dark wavy hair. "Human thoughts are so distracting. Though maybe it's the medicine Nurse Chapel gave me.”

"Different than what you usually receive?"

Spock shifted over onto his side with a groan.

“No. But, it’s a lot stronger in this body. Usually, it takes 50ccs of that stuff to knock me out - but I checked, and it was only 10 in this body. That's so low! I couldn't believe it." He furrowed his brow. "Am I talking too much?"

He shook his head. "Not for me."

"Oh, that's good - without an internal regulator it's hard to be succinct. McCoy kept telling me to shut up. He does that a lot." Taking a moment of consideration, Spock disregarded the notion with a shrug. "Anyway, medicine. I don't like it much. This one makes my stomach hurt. I can’t believe how delicate the human immune system is.” He lay back onto the pillows, raising one hand to shield his eyes from the florescent med-bay lights. “Or human everything, really. Lights 25 percent.”

The lights dimmed accordingly.

Chuckling, Jim took a seat on the empty bio-bed next to Spock’s. This was a whole new side of Spock, and he was thoroughly enjoying the open display of his emotional realities. At his usual, Spock could seem impervious to pain, or too disciplined and composed to experience the everyday drudgery of a life in service. It was nice to know Spock got stomach aches like anyone else. 

“I thought you said you were ready for duty?”

“Oh, I am!” Spock made to sit up, but when Jim put a hand on his shoulder, he receded into the pillows. “I’ll adjust. I’ve been monitoring my progress – I’m a very fast healer. I should be fine in an hour.”

“Don’t test your limits too soon, Mr. Spock.”

He responded to that only with a quiet hum, the edge of a smile playing at his lips.

There was something about it. Maybe because a true smile was so rare on his normal Spock. Or maybe he simply looked good with a smile. Whatever it was, it struck Jim very close to his heart, and made him want to be the cause of that smile.

“It’s a pretty slow Bridge day, anyhow. Only the research from Delta X to examine.”

That, as he anticipated, made Spock perk up immediately.

“Oh, what did the researchers say? Were they able to determine what caused the odd gravitational patterns?”

“We’ve got a team working on it now.”

Jim crossed his legs beneath him, settling in for one of his favourite subjects of conversation – scientific breakthrough. He was pleased when Spock leaned in with real interest. 

“It’s really quite extraordinary. Delta X doesn’t operate under the traditional principles of planetary matter at all. If your readings from the surface are correct, we might have an entirely new planetary classification on our hands. And that’s not even the ha— oh.” Jim caught himself in the midst of his own excitement, remembering where he was. “I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. We can talk later. You should be resting.”

“No.” Spock shook his head, eyes wide. “Please, captain, you are not disturbing me. Quite the opposite. Go on.”

“Alright – but just the basics.”

Of course, Jim ended up detailing the complete findings, the strange black hole-like energy of the gravitational phenomena, even how it would impact the ship upon re-entry in a few days. Spock listened with visible wonder and excitement, occasionally turning his gaze onto the ceiling, as if mapping the calculations across its surface.

“It really could change our understanding of the universe at its fundamentals.”

“Fascinating,” he murmured, a smile unfurling across his lips. Jim felt a warmth blossom in his chest at the familiar phrase – _so it’s you who says that_. “I greatly anticipate when I will have the chance to look at the readings myself. Perhaps I could run simulations in the physics lab later?”

“Of course.” Jim smiled, pleased at his enthusiasm, and that he felt well enough to think of work. “However, I’m not sure how much will be left to do. Knowing how you work, the Vulcan’ll be halfway through the equations by now, if not more.”

“What?” Spock sat up sharply. “You mean he’s on duty?”

“He’s been up there for two hours.”

“On your authority?”

“Well, no.” Jim felt a tendril of doubt curl in his mind, realizing he hadn’t double-checked. “He told me that Dr. M’Benga cleared him—” 

“Oh, that asshole!”

The curse startled Jim enough that it was few seconds before he realized that Spock was out of bed.

“I specifically—God, he’s probably up there telling everyone that I’m _compromised_ or some bullshit—I can’t believe him! And he had the nerve to say _I_ was gonna be the problem, how fucking rich is that!”

“Spock,” and it felt weird to call him that, because Jim had never heard or seen his Spock do anything so fundamentally emotional. “Hey, Spock, come back to the bio-bed. You have to remember you’re on medication.”

“I’m fine. It wore off at 1600 hours, and it’s 1646 hours. That’s well past medical cut-off.” He made a vague frustrated gesture. “Shit! I have to go up there.”

“No, that’s not a good—where did you get that?”

Spock had grabbed a blue science track shirt from under the bio-bed, and was pulling it on. He shrugged.

“Nurse Chapel. I asked earlier if she’d get it for me – I don’t know, some excuse about wanting to _feel_ like myself, or whatever. I was never planning on being here for more than the absolute minimum standard time.” Spock paused, seeming to register what he had disclosed. “Um, don’t note that on my record.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t.”

“Captain, you must let me confront him.” Spock paced back, straightening the front of his uniform anxiously. “Please. I have to make sure that he hasn’t done anything stupid.”

“Stupid isn’t exactly the word for that half of you, Spock.”

“That’s not—” Spock stopped himself, sighing. “Captain— _Jim_ , please.”

And Jim felt a sudden rush of…he wasn’t quite sure. Because there was something in Spock’s voice, something unexpected and vulnerable, speaking of depths hitherto unacknowledged. Sincere. Reaching out for him with a need, a desire that echoed in Jim’s soul.

It glittered in Spock’s eyes, and it was dangerous because he seemed so willing. Spock’s hand did not waver as it found his arm.

“You must understand how deeply this affects me. I have lived my entire life on the principles of discipline, of self-control, and now I find myself lacking that very quality. I cannot abide myself unless I do what I know is right.”

Jim did understand, quite deeply, and perhaps for the first time with total clarity. He nodded, taking the breath that had momentarily abandoned him.

“Of course. You may accompany me to the Bridge.”

A smile spread across Spock’s face, happy and beautiful and freely given.

“Thank you.” 

And Jim was so enraptured, he didn’t consider clearance protocol in the slightest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to get this little chapter ready today. Gotta love Human Spock, am I right? Let me know what you think!


	4. Collision

In hindsight, he really should have foreseen how it would end.

As soon as the Bridge doors swished open, Vulcan Spock turned.

“Captain, preliminary reports on the gravitational waves suggest—”

He halted abruptly at the sight of his human half by Jim’s side. Two pairs of dark eyes fixed upon the other, one cold and remote, the other burning with red-blooded anger.

Stuck between them, Jim began to realize his mistake.

“Now, gentlemen,” he said, holding out a hand to each. “Let’s be civil.”

“Forgot about me, huh?” The human’s voice was terse, eyes narrowed in contempt. “Did you think you could just leave me tied to a bio-reader, while you went back to work?”

“We discussed this.”

The Vulcan observed him frigidly for a moment longer, then rotated smoothly back to his station.

“Return to sickbay.”

Human Spock advanced a few steps. “I don’t think so. You’re not my superior.”

“And you are not mine,” he replied, without hesitation or visual acknowledgment. “Until your presence is required, I suggest you remove yourself from the Bridge.”

The Human Spock raised his chin, defiant. “I have the captain’s permission to be here. You must acknowledge me.”

The Vulcan turned slowly, seeming to accept his counterpart would not back down without a challenge.

“I am not required to do so. Furthermore, the captain’s decision, while entirely his prerogative, is misguided in this area.” The Vulcan gave Jim a cursory glance. “It is more than likely, however, that this was not an independent order of his invention, but rather a product of your emotional petitioning upon his person.”

That was embarrassingly accurate – further confirmed by the warmth that spread across Jim’s cheeks.

Vulcan Spock inclined his head.

“A primitive manipulation tactic, but evidently effective.”

The Human recoiled at the accusation, made a sound of protest, but the Vulcan persisted with little regard for the reaction.

“In any case, the Bridge does not require both of us for optimal functioning – quite the opposite, in fact. As I retain the majority of the technical knowledge, and the Vulcan proclivity toward precision and accuracy, it is therefore logical—”

“I don’t know what’s not getting through to you. I’m not leaving.”

An exhalation left his lips, perhaps the alien equivalent of a sigh, but far too controlled to convey even an iota of emotion. Jim got the sense this was not the first debate between them, not by a long shot.

“That is not a rational choice. Your emotions are exacerbating an already complicated problem.”

“Is there a problem?” The human folded his arms, nonchalant, obstinate. “I don’t think you really believe that. Seems this situation might have solved a problem for you.”

There was sarcasm there, and yet underneath the veneer of humour lay an unmistakable loathing that caught Jim off-guard.

The Vulcan blinked, shaking his head.

“I cannot understand your meaning when you use sardonicism. I suspect this is merely an attempt to release the negative emotions that have accumulated as a result of the physiological distr—”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me.” Clearly, the fight was on. The human strode around the station perimeter, seeming to relish the fact that this was public. There was renewed attack in his words, flushing his cheeks. “You know you’ve been dying to get rid of me for years, and now that you’ve finally got the chance, you can pass me off as some kind of hysterical freak—”

“Spock.” It was somehow worse than any insult - cut through the air like the snap of a whip. The name alone made the crew visibly shrink away from the Vulcan. “Control yourself. You are on the Bridge.”

All it did was stoke the human’s fire.

“No. NO! _You_ are the problem, understand? You’ve always been the problem!”

The human stormed toward him, an accusing finger held like a weapon between them.

“All my life you’ve only ever hurt me, tried to control me, hoping someday if you waited long enough I’d just die off, leave you alone with your logic, isn’t that right? And now you can’t handle the idea that I’m free, and I can do whatever I want.”

The Vulcan took an intimidating step forward. “You are acting hysterical. Cease this histrionic diatribe, _now_.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” The human began to laugh, bitter, throwing his hands in the air wildly. “I can’t matter because I’m emotional! Only cold, intellectual, unfeeling people deserve to live in your world! Well, get this through your head – I’m you. You’re me. Every person on this Bridge doesn’t see you as any different than I am, even when we’re in one body. Because we’re the same. Do you hear me? The same!”

The Vulcan turned away, but the Human grabbed onto his arm, pulled him sharply around so they were face to face.

“Pay attention to me!”

“Spock.” Jim stepped forward, concerned; distantly felt the crew draw collective breath. “Spock, let him go.”

“Captain, I am not endangered.” The Vulcan, to his credit, was entirely disaffected. “Do not concern yourself with our affairs.”

“And why not? Why keep this from him?” Human Spock turned his head, mockingly. “What are you afraid of me saying?”

The human leaned forward, said something else, but it was spoken at such a hush that he couldn’t catch the words.

But clearly the Vulcan did. Dark eyes flashed up to Jim – something manifesting in its depths that he couldn’t begin to decipher.

When they turned back to his counterpart, they were daggers of ice.

“ _Ikap’uh t’du ru’lut_.”

It was spoken quietly, and in Vulcan, but Jim understood exactly what it must mean. There was no mistaking the threatening chill of those words.

“No. I’m not going to be quiet. You’ve pushed me aside for too long.”

“I push you aside because you would destroy that which we have worked to achieve. You are reckless and idiotic. You bring this upon yourself.”

Something had clearly flipped a switch in the Vulcan, his words cut into his opponent with the deadly concentration of a phaser blast.

The human’s hands contracted into fists, he bared his teeth. “I will not be silenced by you!”

Dark eyes flashed. “You deserve to be silenced.”

“Spock,” Jim said, in warning, but neither seemed to care.

“I’m a part of you!” The human hissed. “I will always be a part of you!”

“You are nothing.” The Vulcan stiffened into his straightest posture, towering over the human. “You are valueless to me. You distract, and impede me, and needlessly complicate my existence. I am far better without you, and I intend to appreciate the time I have free of your presence. Now _leave me be_.”

The next few moments seemed to happen in a split second.

The Vulcan wrenched his arm free of the human’s grip. Lunging for him, the human grabbed at his face, his jaw, pushing him backward into the control panel – and the Vulcan countered by striking him clean across the mouth, dropping him in one punch to the floor.

“Spock!”

Jim rushed to his side. The human put a hand to his lips, pulling it away to reveal fingers stained with blood.

“Red!” he breathed, glancing up to Jim with fearful eyes. “Why is it—? Stay away from me!”

Whipping around, Jim saw the Vulcan bearing down upon them.

Immediately, he threw out a protective arm over the human, putting himself directly in the path of the aggressor.

“Stand down!” Jim heard the snarl in his voice, and didn’t care to correct it. “You’ve done quite enough.”

The intervention seemed to work. The Vulcan’s gaze shifted to him – he blinked rapidly, seeming to readjust to their location, the decorum associated.

He took a step backward.

“My apologies.” Hands folded behind his back mechanically. “Captain.”

Jim noticed who the apology was directed toward, and who it was not. Anger flashed through him, suggesting several choice words to use against the Vulcan. Still, he held himself back. This was the Bridge. He was the captain. There was the human half to attend to first.

Satisfied that the Vulcan would keep his distance, he turned away.

On the floor, Spock pressed his fingers to his lips, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Are you alright?” Jim knelt down, put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Does it hurt much?”

“N-no. Ow!” He had touched his lip again, his undisguised gasp of pain pulling forth Jim’s protective instincts.

“I’ll take you to sickbay.”

“Oh, no.” Spock shook his head vigorously. “Really, captain, I’m fine.”

“I’m not giving you an option. Lieutenant Uhura, have McCoy prepare a space.”

“Aye, sir.” She hurried to copy the orders, looking happy to have any task that would distract from the present drama.

“Captain,” Spock said, as he allowed Jim to help him to his feet. “Surely this is excessive. I must protest.”

“I, too, fail to see the logic,” The Vulcan tracked his other half as he wrapped his arms around Jim’s shoulders for support. Noticing Jim, he averted his gaze. “The injury is superficial, at worst.”

“I thought I told you to stand down,” Jim muttered, holding his glare. “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to follow orders?”

A lifted brow met the provocation. “I merely wondered as to what they are, sir. Obviously we cannot resolve which of us is fit for duty.”

“You will both be on duty. Separately.” Jim took a moment to ensure that the human had his footing before he let go. “I’ll have your human half run diagnostics in the physics lab on the gravitational variation that caused this chaos in the first place. Which means you can go about your business here, Mr. Spock. Does that seem logical?”

His eyes glittered, moving from counterpart to captain, calculating something.

“Completely.”

Whatever it was, Jim didn’t care. “Good.”

“Sickbay has prepared a place for Mr. Spock,” Uhura reported, somehow maintaining a shred of professional conduct amidst the hostilities. “Doctor McCoy will meet him at turbo lift 1-1 on Deck 5.”

Jim turned away from the Vulcan, and in spirit from the entire conflict. Taking a long breath, he tried to re-establish his self-composure. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

Human Spock caught his gaze, silently asking if he was all right. A small smile was what he offered in answer.

“I’ll escort you.”

As they passed the helm, Chekov and Sulu muttered quietly to each other, though the Russian threw a wary glance over his shoulder to the unmoving figure at the science station. The rest of the crew sat in embarrassed, uncertain silence. Everyone seemed shaken by the external performance of Mr. Spock’s explosive inner world.

What a fiasco.

Jim felt the Vulcan’s eyes on his back. He ignored him, pointedly. By all accounts, seeing how insufferably superior the alien half could be, it was about time that somebody gave him a taste of his own medicine.

“Thank you, captain,” Spock murmured, as they stepped into the lift.

Jim released a small laugh, and with it the tension in his shoulders.

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Spock.” He lowered his voice considerably as he added, “I’m as glad as you are, I’m sure, to get away from that storm of ill will.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I—for the duty assignment, captain.”

When he turned, it was to meet a tiny smile on Spock’s lips. The human glanced to the floor, shrugging with a measure of shyness that Jim had never seen.

“It’s just…I don’t mean to be silly about it. But I really do appreciate it. Thank you.” His dark lashes fluttered open, revealing dark affection in the gaze below. “Jim.”

The breath sucked out of him faster than if he had opened an airlock into the vacuum of space.

Suddenly self-conscious, Jim produced a hasty chuckle, bringing one hand to the back of his neck bashfully, the other to grab hold of the turbo lift handle.

Only to discover that Spock’s hand had made the same movement. So now they were holding hands.

And in rapid succession, holding hands and looking directly into Spock’s dark, deep, emotionally transparent eyes. 

He glanced away. Made direct eye-contact with an incredibly scandalized Vulcan on the Bridge. Realized the doors had been open the whole time. And now he was blushing.

Jim swallowed hard.

“Deck five,” he managed, wrenching his hand free, and cranking the turbo lift into action.

How was it possible, he thought with an inward groan, to feel less equipped than ever to deal with two Spocks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ikap’uh t’du ru’lut: Shut up/Shut your mouth 
> 
> Fun Fact: this chapter is inspired by that one Tumblr post that's like "I may seem calm but trust me, rational and emotional me are having a smackdown 24/7" 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and much love to all who've commented/left kudos thus far - love you guys!


	5. The Pink Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turn on the A/C y'all, it's getting steamy!

When Jim recovered enough of his dignity, he elected to check on the gravitational experiments.

Well, really to check up on Spock.

The physics laboratory was rarely busy, as most of its machinery had duplicates across the ship. There was little here, beyond the gravitational simulator, that couldn’t be found amongst the cluttered and noisy workstations in astrophysics, quantum mechanics, even the biology lab.

Still, it was odd to enter into any room on the Enterprise and be met with total silence. Usually, it was a sign of certain trouble. But where Mr. Spock was concerned, Jim knew it was a matter of concentration, and not ill will.

Indeed, the human Spock didn’t notice Jim, staring instead through the window of the gravity chamber.

Jim stood for a moment, observing in turn. The opportunity to work with Spock close at hand was always available, true, but he often lacked the time to stop and appreciate his first officer’s dedication.

Yet, an odd apprehension began to creep upon him as he watched, the same as when the Vulcan had rejected his proposition to talk.

This man was distracted. He fiddled with the pressure dial, without any particular purpose. He ran an absent hand across the rim of the chamber window, chewed at his lip in habit. He lacked discipline, focus, the calm quiet assurance that Jim naturally associated with his Spock. 

Maybe that was it. 

He was human. And as much as Jim liked to tease Spock about possessing this half, he was not used to seeing it so vividly.

“Find anything fascinating?”

Spock started at his words, shutting off the gravity program quickly.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Looking around, however, a broad smile overtook the human’s surprise as he recognized him. “Come to measure my productivity levels, captain?”

“I’m sure you’re achieving the usual perfection.” Jim nodded at the purple bruising on Spock's lip. “I thought I’d check on that shiner your other half gave you.”

It was the only remaining evidence of the clash – any other long dissolved by dermal regenerator. Still, Spock raised an abashed hand to hide it.

“Oh.” He gave a half-hearted shrug, and Jim considered he might be bruised in more ways than one. “It’s nothing. And actually, a shiner is Terran slang for a black eye, not just an injury in general.”

“My mistake.” Jim smiled, strolled over to the gravity chamber. “I’m glad to see your wits are uninjured.”

“Hm." There was a note of bitterness in Spock’s voice. "I think my injuries lie in other areas.”

Jim was reminded of how he had spoken to the Vulcan, how intensely his anger burned. It made him wonder what this half suffered on a regular basis for Vulcan pride. He leaned one arm against the chamber wall, trying to glimpse the expression now turned away, hiding from view. Obviously, Spock knew he was no longer adept at disguising his inner thoughts. 

“You do have a fairly compromising right hook. Believe me, I’ve received enough of them in my time.”

That, at least, was enough to elicit a small chuckle from Spock. Jim was buoyed that his friend had not abandoned all his humanly cheer.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Spock surveyed him for a moment. Expectation, questions lingered in his gaze, but did not find voice.

“Was that the only reason you came to see me?”

“You could tell me what you’ve been working on.”

“Oh.” A frown. Spock looked into the gravity chamber. “I could, yes.”

Jim opened his hands, gesturing that he was open to suggestion. “You’ve got a better idea?”

“No.” The answer was quick, too quick to be natural. Spock seemed to know it, for he amended: “Well, not…no, we can talk about it. The work has been interesting, I guess.”

“Spock.” Jim shifted closer, giving him a look. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not very good at hiding your feelings lately.”

He meant that as a joke. But it clearly triggered something, for Spock’s measured, even reticent expression suddenly blossomed wide open.

“Captain,” he said, clearly fighting a breathless rush of…some emotion. His eyes glowed with anticipation; almost hope, though Jim couldn’t place what he hoped for. “I’ve— I tried to make it obvious, as obvious as I could, but you must know that I’m new at this. I hope I have not offended you, or been too bold.”

The confession – it felt like a confession – was so heartfelt that Jim started to think he was missing something. Admitting this, he judged, might prove insulting. So, he responded with an assuring touch on Spock’s arm.

“Never.” He decided to risk a guess. “Did your Vulcan half keep you from showing me earlier?”

Spock hummed in affirmation. “He is determined to keep us apart.”

That surprised Jim, because for all that the Vulcan had done to test his patience, he had never acted against Jim’s wish to attend both halves.

“But why? I can’t see how that’s logical. You are part of him, after all.”

A flicker of annoyance danced through his expression – Spock shook his head, as if to dispel the thought. “He is not part of me. I don’t want to speak of him,” he said, raising a hand against the half-started sentence on Jim’s lips. “Please. We don’t need him. Not now.”

Spock took Jim’s hand, fingers curling around his palm. Jim was suddenly struck – though there was no sensation, not like that electric pulse of thought that sometimes jolted him upon accidental contact– with how taboo this was, or would be to Spock’s normal sensibilities. 

“Spock.” His mouth was dry; he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Spock, I…don’t mean to insult you, but do you remember what holding hands signifies on Vulcan?”

Spock laughed, then, when Jim did not, stopped, clearly confused.

“Do you not—?” His eyes widened, and he dropped their hands quickly. “Oh! I apologize, Jim. I thought you—wait. But you said you understood my feelings?”

“Your feelings? I understand that you have them, Mr. Spock, but what…”

The words trailed off as Jim suddenly connected the pieces.

The broad smiles reserved only for him. The way he had stared across sickbay. The gentle, purposeful touch of his hand. _I tried to make it obvious_. And now, the way Spock was observing him, his dark eyes glittering with that same dangerous, bewitching pull.

Oh.

“You understand?”

Jim shook his head, dazed, because never in his wildest imaginings had he pictured this, nor prepared himself for the sight of Spock’s parted lips, the amorous proposal dancing in the expression he knew so well – or thought he knew.

“I…” He laughed softly, disbelievingly, guilty as charged. “I’m not sure what do with the information.”

“Now, captain.” Spock’s fingers stroked the length of his palm, teasing, inviting. “Surely a man of feeling knows how to use them?”

A wildfire coursed through his veins. All he saw was the flash of dark eyes, before they crashed together into a furious, feverish kiss.

It was a blur of sensation, wanton heat. Spock’s hands were at his cheeks, clutching the back of his head, his neck, pulling him closer, deeper, seeming to pour every inch of himself into the space between their lips. Distantly, he felt himself lift off the floor, his legs hooking around Spock’s waist for support – but didn’t much care to record the sensation. His heartbeat was hammering through his chest, wanting out, wanting to be closer to Spock. He opened his mouth, tasted the tongue that sought his, before finally forcing himself away, his lungs screaming for air.

A table, Jim realized, was underneath him. Somehow they were sprawled across the laboratory counter – halfway across the room. He hadn’t even registered moving there.

He struggled for breath. How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes? Jim could barely keep track of his own limbs, his own thoughts.

Spock, clearly, had a better grasp of their situation. He pushed himself more firmly against Jim, moulding their hips, their chests together. Jim was happy to take direction.

“I love you,” the human murmured, the declaration hot against the flesh of Jim’s neck. “I have always loved you.”

“Spock,” was all he could manage. Jim’s head was spinning. This was more than he had ever dared dream of. He ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair, searching again for his kiss. “Oh, God, Spock.”

“I want you to be mine.” As he spoke, his lips danced over Jim’s, taunting him with their fleeting touch, his taste. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His teeth grazed the line of Jim’s neck, and Jim did not have the self-possession to withhold his moan of arousal. 

“Yes,” he gasped, pulling their foreheads together, pressing what kisses he could to his lips. “I’m yours – Spock, all yours.”

“Permit me.”

A hand slid down to his thigh. Jim nodded absently, still lost in the lingering sensation of their affections on his lips, his neck.

“Jim, I must know if you care for me.”

As if that were a concern! He grinned, raising a hand to trace his own lips, watching Spock’s eyes following the movement with rapt attention.

“Well, I don’t know.” He attempted a bit of coyness, trying to save face from the fact that Spock had entirely bowled him over in the span of a minute and a half. Glancing to the door, he gave a half shrug. “I was thinking of waiting for whatever offer your pointy-eared friend might make.”

Spock seized him suddenly, forcefully, plunging them into a dizzying kiss.

“He doesn’t love you like I do. He can’t love you.” His voice was low, growling –extremely sexy in Jim’s haze of passion. “Don’t talk about him.” 

“You make a persuasive argument, Mr. Spock,” Jim purred in return, doing his best not to giggle. God, was this ever hot!

It had been so long since his last kiss outside of a distraction, a strategic ploy – longer still since someone else seduced him. The job of a captain was wonderful, but so terribly solitary. That it was Spock’s kiss, that Spock desired him (finally – _finally!_ ) meant more than Jim could possibly put in words.      

Spock pulled back for a moment, a shadow of concern crossing his brow. “You do love me, don’t you, Jim?”

“Yes. Darling, of course.”

A dazzling smile met that. The kiss that followed was similarly exceptional.

There was a sudden whistle, startling both of them out of their embrace.

“What was—?”

“ _Captain Kirk_.”

It was Spock’s voice, but not the one who stared down at him. It took Jim a few seconds to puzzle out what was happening. Because how…?

 _There are two Spocks right now, dumbass. The one doing his job, and the one doing you._  

“Oh, shit!” Jim pushed Spock off of him, crossing hastily to the communication device on the wall. He cleared his throat. “Kirk here.”

“ _Captain, I have completed the final calculations for the beaming sequence necessary to reunite both halves of myself. In conference with Engineer Scott, it would appear the most favourable opportunity to perform the manoeuvre would be at 1000 hours tomorrow morning._ ”

“Excellent. I trust I can leave the particulars to you and the engineering team?”

“ _Affirmative._ ” The Vulcan’s voice possessed a measure of uncertainty. _“Captain, I do not mean to intrude, but you sound somewhat out of breath. Have you been engaging in strenuous activity?”_

Jim shut his eyes, stopping himself from answering too quickly. How did you explain to someone that they were your strenuous activity?

“Yeah…something like that. Keep me posted on your progress.”

_“Yes, captain. I believe Mr. Scott wishes to review the specific details of the procedure with you at this time. He instructed that you are to find him in Engineering Section D.”_

“Understood. Kirk out.”

He punched the comm. button, and let out a long sigh. What a mess he was in this time.  

Behind him came a sound of amusement. “Am I that strenuous, captain?”

Jim laughed, in spite of himself, turning back.

“Maybe just a little.”

Spock gave him a winning smile, then held out his hand. “Come.”

Jim shook his head. “I have to meet with Scotty.”

“No, you don’t.” Spock sat up, gesturing for him again. “You have an important meeting with your first officer right now. First officer comes before second officer. That’s just how it works.”

“My other first officer would question that line of thinking.”

But Jim yielded to temptation, walking back to the offered embrace. Burying his face into the curve of Spock’s shoulder, he drew a long breath.

“You know I could demote you for encouraging poor behaviour.”

“What poor behaviour? We are simply maintaining positive relations between senior crew.” Spock hummed a laugh, pressing kisses along his jaw. “And isn’t that logical?”

“Mmm.” Jim pulled away. “Somehow I don’t think that’s up to your usual standard, Mr. Spock.”

Spock caught his hands, brought them to his lips.

“I don’t want you to leave, Jim.” He looked up from beneath his lashes. “Stay. Please.”

That shouldn’t have bothered him. It was a predictable request – especially from the lips of a smiling, round-eared human. But for whatever reason, it sat with Jim strangely.

Because that was an appeal he was used to from casual partners, with brief rendezvouses at the Academy, the kind who dreaded a return to hard work, reality. _Just skip the meeting tomorrow – don’t take the advanced courses, we can be partners in the applied field – don’t transfer, don’t move up in rank, don’t change – please, for me?_

Those partners thought nothing of the work that Jim loved so much – that Spock loved too, so he thought. It was partly the reason he had never stayed with those people for very long.

And a part of why he had come to respect Spock so much.

He removed his hands, gently.

“I can’t. You know that.”

A frown darkened Spock’s brows. The eyes below, Jim noticed, were not so attentive, not so considerate as the ones he knew.  

“But—?”

He leaned forward, captured Spock’s lips in a long, tender kiss.

“I’ll see you tonight. My quarters.” Jim ran a teasing finger under his chin. “And then you can demonstrate more of that poor behaviour.”

Spock took his hand, leaned his cheek against it. “I’ll miss you.”

“2000 hours, sharp.”

A hum, a wordless plea for another second, minute, hour. “Love you.”

“Let me have my hand back, mister.”

He giggled, but relented. They kissed once more.

“2000 hours.” Jim said sternly, and walked away before Spock could entice him back into any more flirtations. 

“Bye,” was what followed him out the door, soft, and sad, and full of love.

And inwardly, achingly, Jim felt more adrift than ever. He loved Spock, he told himself, he had always loved Spock.

But if that were true, said a small, wise voice within, why was it so easy to walk away?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Leave a kudos/comment if you liked it, or even if you didn't! You can always tell me your thoughts at my Tumblr: fictionandtheatre.tumblr.com


	6. (In)Considerations

“I think I’m losing my mind.”

That was Bones’ greeting, sitting down at dinner. Jim, with a forkful of salad halfway to his mouth, was more than happy to put it down to enquire further.

“What’s up?”

McCoy shook his head, eyes somewhat glazed, clearly deep in thought. Jim had seen men in combat with the same haunted look – and classmates who received particularly staggering bad marks. Neither one boded well.

“I’m a good judge of character, aren’t I? I’m not a fool. Hell, I’ve based my professional career on being able to diagnose people!”

“Hello gentlemen.” Mr. Scott sat down across the table, looking weary. He made a sympathetic face at McCoy’s despair. “You too, doctor? Aye, it’s been a long day. That half of Spock has me fair shoogled.”

“Is there something wrong with him?”

The two men erupted into a chorus of scoffs and half-started affirmations. Jim spread his hands, in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you bring it up before? If he’s been running around my Bridge causing havoc, I want to know about it!”

“No, captain. Not the Vulcan.” Scotty raised his brows pointedly. “The human Spock.”

Jim blinked. “The human?”

“After all that time,” McCoy said, sounding close to tears, “All that time I spent telling the Vulcan to loosen up a bit, show some humanity. Come to find out it’s the humanity that made him so awful in the first place!”

“True enough.” Scotty leaned his cheek onto his fist, a mixture of exhaustion and dismay draining the usual cheer from his voice. “He talked to me about black holes for two hours straight - thought I’d been down one myself. I’ve never met a human being with more power to drain patience.”

“Now, gentlemen.” Jim frowned, hoping it would put them in check. As senior officers, close friends, and older men than him, they didn’t bat an eyelash. “Mr. Spock is undergoing a unique and likely very difficult process. We’re in no position to judge him.”

“It’s not judgment. It’s the truth.” McCoy speared a tomato with his fork. “You should-a seen him with that bruise. Now I’ve had the real Mr. Spock nearly lose major organs and tell me on the operating table that I was being overdramatic. I’m not sure that human guy is even related.”

“What did he do?”

McCoy rolled his eyes in place of answer, chewing his food.

“Oh, come on, Bones.” Jim folded his arms on the table. “Until you give me some solid answers, I’m chalking this up to emotional conflict between you and Spock.”

“Emotional conflict!” McCoy threw back his head with laughter. Beside him, Scotty started to wheeze. “We’re not the ones with emotional issues here. The guy was weepin’ all over the place – you’d think I was amputatin’ his arm without anaesthetic. And all that over some capillary healing ointment.”

“Aye, he was still moanin’ over it in engineering. On and on about a smack in the face, and common decency—”

“Yeah! God, he talked for ages about how the Vulcan made him behave improperly in front of the captain,” McCoy chimed in, pointing in agreement. “Mentioned that about twelve hundred times. Who is that Vulcan to offend the delicate sense of our _dear, darling_ captain?”

“You’d think his Vulcan half were the right devil. Well,” Scotty shrugged, raising his glass. “Outside of his looks, I mean.”

McCoy raised his brows, and toasted to that assessment. “And yet he’s the only one who can shut him up. I should buy him a drink.”

“Bones!” 

“Come on, Jim, you gotta know the human’s a pain in the ass.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort.”

Jim’s defensive instincts were on high alert, and he looked between the two with sincere disapproval.

“I would advise you to remember that Spock is incapacitated. And that you two are supposed to be his friends. If it were you in this situation, you can be certain that Spock would treat with you with respect. Frankly, I’m appalled at your lack of discretion.”

Scotty and McCoy shared a glance – the engineer with abashment, the doctor looking unconvinced. Still, both mumbled an apology, more like children caught mouthing off than senior officers.

Dubious as to their sincerity, Jim insisted. “I don’t want to hear any more denigratory remarks. Understood?”

The silence suggested agreement. Satisfied that it was final, he lifted his glass.

“I want you to go over the sequence tonight, Mr. Scott. Get it as close to perfect as you can.”

The table remained quiet, as he sipped his drink. Scotty had his gaze firmly downward – he was the kind of officer that took any reprimand to heart, this one seeming to strike particularly close. Bones chewed with a sour concentration, like some kind of angry bovine.

Against his better judgment, Jim added, “Besides, I’m sure Spock gave you valid reasons as to why he was upset.”

McCoy snorted, derisively. “Yeah, and then some.”

“Bones, I’m warning you—”

“Well, he’s like a goddamn child, Jim!” He threw down his fork, clearly fed up with having to argue his point.  “All he did was complain – about the Vulcan, about me, how his face hurt, how Nurse Chapel always gives him funny looks, that you didn’t visit him in sickbay this time—”

“Said that to me too, captain,” Scotty interjected, though looked away apologetically when Jim aimed a glare at him.

“—the weather, his mother, then got confused by his heart-rate readings – what didn’t he cry over is a better question.”

“You’re exaggerating the issue.”

McCoy made a series of frustrated half-gestures. “No! That’s the problem, I’m not!”

“I don’t care. Stop it. I don’t want to talk about Spock’s problems.” Jim said through clenched teeth, turning back to his wilted salad.

“You should. I swear on my grandmother’s peach cobbler, there’s something seriously wrong with that damn Vul—hobgob—er, well, I don’t know what you’d call him anymore. But he’s not a human, I’ll tell you that much.”

“ _Bones_.” Jim’s tone was serious enough that Scotty flinched back. “Just lay off. I said I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re gonna have to eventually.” McCoy shook his head, disbelieving. “What’s wrong with you? You just keep acting like this problem is gonna sort itself out. Like this is some kinda regular occurrence. It’s not, Jim. Your first officer is in serious trouble.”

Jim looked away. “He’s fine.”

McCoy banged the table with his fist, rattling the silverware, forcing Jim’s gaze up again.

“No, he’s not! Goddamn it, Jim, wake up! Can’t you remember? When you split in half, both sides of you started to deteriorate, to die. Get it? Don’t you realize that Spock is at the very same risk?”

Jim felt his heart lurch at the thought, but met McCoy with steely defiance.

“And is he? You didn’t say a word about dying until it suited your purposes.”

McCoy leapt to his feet, hands in fists on the table. “I’m not kidding around, Jim. I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, what bullshit that human’s feeding you, but he’s not Spock.”

“Sit down.”

“Jim.” His blue eyes were blazing with righteous fury. “Spock wouldn’t do this – any of this. Whatever the human’s done, or said, it’s not real. Spock doesn’t feel like that.”

Of course Bones couldn’t know what had passed between them, but the words still cut directly to his heart.

“You don’t know what he feels,” Jim snapped, standing to meet his challenge. “You don’t know a damn thing ab—”

“For God’s sake, Jim, stop acting like we’re the enemies here! We’re trying to help you – we’re trying to help Spock!”

“Are you?” Jim raised his chin, holding his stare. “Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’ve got to stop treating them like they’re the real Spock! They’re not – they’re not even half of him! While we’re arguing about which one we like best, right now, this very minute he could be dying!”

“Captain,” Scotty said, quietly, seeming loathe to direct either of their angers against him. “I do think the doctor has a point.”

Jim knew it was true. They weren’t Spock – not even close – and Spock didn’t feel as they did. The human had told him, even in the midst of their affection, that his other half, a sizable half of Spock couldn’t love him. A part of Jim had always known that.

But he didn’t like Bones' point, especially without proof.

So, he narrowed his eyes, pushed back. “Are you sure that it’s the same? Have you seen any other indications?”

McCoy raised a hand, conceding that he did not have all the answers.

“He resisted further tests when I had him in sickbay, and I didn’t have a good enough reason to keep him there. But from what I can see, his metabolic functions aren’t consistent with the average human’s. I think he’s suffering from an over-active function of the emotional centres of the brain.”

“That is essentially correct, doctor.”

The three men jumped, turning to meet the Vulcan Spock, who stood nearby.

He raised a brow at their surprise. “I apologize, however, it was impossible for me to avoid overhearing your conversation, as you were shouting. I will retire, should you wish to continue arguing about me without my knowledge.”

“No, please join us.” Jim gestured to the empty chair to his left. “I’m sure your insight will be invaluable.”

Spock sat in a single, laughably perfect motion. The two standing officers joined him.

McCoy leaned onto the table, toward Spock. “You think there is something wrong with your human half, then?”

“I do not 'think', doctor. I know. There are significant flaws in both of our psycho-physical makeups.”

“But that’s impossible!” Scotty shared his bewildered expression with the group. “You were checked out when you arrived, and were fine. You made it through the transporter in one piece.”

“The mere ability to function normally does not correlate to perfect health, or negate the existence of complications.”

McCoy and Scotty shared a thoughtful look. “No, I suppose not.”

“I became aware of the variation approximately one hour after the transporter malfunction – post your thorough examination, doctor. Discovering that my ability to monitor my internal functions had increased significantly, I elected to map the impact of the incident against my standard brain patterns.”

Bones breathed a laugh, putting a hand to his forehead. “Of course you did.”

“As your conversation suggested, there were significant points of interest. Most relevant to our discussion is the fact that neither I, nor my counterpart, are fully human or Vulcan.”

McCoy frowned. “What?”

Jim turned his head to the side. “Explain.”

Scotty sat back in his chair, seeming absolutely stunned. “But the difference between you—!”

“Is external and therefore superficial. Gentlemen, you must know that there is more separating Vulcans and humans than mere appearance, surely?”

“I think we may have overlooked it.” Jim afforded him a smile, which prompted an acknowledging nod from Spock. “Please, go on.”

“The division between us is not biologically sound. While we operate under the basic principles of human and Vulcan physiologies – difference in blood type and the configuration of major organs, for example – the doctor will inform you that both of us still maintain remnants of Spock’s hybridity.”

“That’s true.” McCoy said, realization dawning in his expression. “It didn’t strike me until now – but both of you produce the same inconsistencies on the bio-readers that the full Spock does. I just figured that was your normal.” 

“For the complete Spock, it is normal – for his split identities it is not.”

The simple explanation drew forth a considerable amount of compassion from Jim’s heart. Bones had been right – the toll of separating from oneself was painful, and shouldn’t be ignored. For someone with professed interest in the lives of his crew, he had been incredibly self-absorbed. It was something he wished to amend.

He offered a small smile. “I think I owe you an apology, Bones.”

“Damn straight.” But Bones winked, gave him a friendly nudge beneath the table. “Don’t worry about it, Jimbo. I’m just glad to be right for a change.”

The group chuckled at that – minus the Vulcan, of course, who waited until the mirth had settled before continuing.

“Furthermore, having taken the liberty of performing a comparative emotional and intellectual analysis on myself, I have concluded that I do not display the typical psychological profile of a Vulcan.”

Spock folded his hands neatly onto the table before him, seeming to settle for the explanation ahead.

“My current brain is composed of entirely logical mental patterns, more so than could realistically be achieved by any known species, including Vulcans. Vulcans are capable of both logic and emotions, and I am not. Therefore, I cannot be truly Vulcan.”

“Hmph.” McCoy made a face. “Sounds true enough. Though I never thought I’d hear you admit to Vulcans being emotional, Mr. Spock.”

The Vulcan inclined his head. “Indeed. It was of some surprise to me to discover in my research that humans can operate beyond the emotional level. From your example, one would assume intelligence escapes the species entirely.”

McCoy choked on his drink with a disgruntled splutter. Scotty hid his laughter into his hand.

Jim grinned, despite the otherwise serious conversation. “So if the two of you aren’t entirely human or Vulcan, then what are you?”

“I believe,” Spock said, raising a considering eyebrow, “that the organization of our identities is more in line with the common perception of each species, and not the biological realities.”

“The perception?”

“Oh, I see,” Jim said, starting to make real sense of what Spock was getting at. “You mean that you act like the stereotype, not the reality.”

“Correct.”

Scotty frowned. “But what could cause that? There’s has to be some reason why you split on those lines, instead of any other.”

Spock turned his head, contemplating the question.

“From what I recall of my—Spock’s history, he has often been forced to choose between his dual heritage, to decide which legacy he wished to pursue, to adopt as his primary identification. Most configurations of this choice hinge on the illogical binary of emotional expression and rational thought, assuming these best demonstrate the essence of each species. While it is inexplicable how this was translated into practical effect, it would explain the basis for the odd configuration of our respective identities.”

Jim nodded. “A fascinating proposition.”

“Indeed.”

“So, what’s the upshot of this?” McCoy looked between them. “Is there any danger to you, or to Spock as a whole?”

“I believe with a prolonged existence in this state, that is a possibility. However, if the relative time of our separation is minimal – that is, if we recombine in tomorrow’s attempt – there should be few lasting effects on Spock once restored. Assuming that the manoeuvre is successful, of course.”

The table fell silent, and in the empty officers mess, the quietness resonated loudly. It was a big assumption – the unvoiced consensus amongst them suggested it was none too likely either.

Scotty glanced between the others, then pushed his chair back.

“I don’t know about you gentlemen, but I’m plumb confused by the whole business. I’ll be glad when this is over.”

McCoy and Jim laughed, seeming relieved that Scotty had put the general feeling of the group into words. The Vulcan simply observed, with mild interest in the emotional release.

“I’m going to look at the final preparations for the beaming sequence tomorrow. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

“I think I’ll take off too.” McCoy’s hand came to Jim’s shoulder. “Unless you need me to stick around?”

“No, I’ll be fine, Bones.” He patted the hand once, putting on a brave face. “Thanks for keeping me in balance.”

“Take care of yourself, Jim.”

Jim smiled thinly, uncertain if he could promise that confidently. “Sure.”

“You too, Spock.”

“I intend to.”

Jim watched the men leave. There was so much riding upon the morning. They had their plans, their theories calculated, but it all depended upon a single moment and a gravitational anomaly outside their scientific comprehension.

He wasn’t giving up. He didn’t believe in no-win scenarios. But belief didn’t always cut it.

Pushing aside this worry, he brought his attention back to the room. Spock sat calmly, patiently at his side.

Mustering a small smile, Jim tried to appear light-hearted, optimistic.

“So,” he offered, hoping Spock would take the conversational lead.

The Vulcan merely returned his gaze.

Sighing, Jim looked away. Right. This one didn’t like to talk.

His assessment had been painfully true. For all the normality this Spock possessed, there was still so much he lacked. Namely any semblance of their friendship – between the Vulcan’s silence and the shrivelled plate of greens before him, there was little tempting him to stay.

“Should-a had a chicken sandwich,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Spock. He covered the salad with his napkin, admitting defeat. “I don’t know why I even ordered this in the first place.”

“The doctor invoke his right to ‘press-gang’ you into the choice, I believe.”

“Press-gang?” Jim looked up with a laugh, surprised. “Didn’t know that one was in your vocabulary.”

“It is in your vocabulary.” The Vulcan’s expression shifted slightly. “I was behind you when you ordered.”

“Oh, I see.” Jim folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. “And you thought you’d just try it out on me, huh?”

“I have no need to impress you, sir.”

Jim grinned, catching the wordplay. “I thought Vulcans didn’t make jokes – stereotypically of course.”

“Stereotypes, even when applied liberally, cannot account for individual circumstances.”

“Of course. And Vulcan humour is just better, is that it?”

Spock gave a slight shrug. “That is only logical.”

That made Jim laugh. He admired the slight softening of the stoic expression; saw, for the first time, a sliver of the Vulcan he knew.

He shook his head. “You know, you’re not bad at conversation when you put your mind to it. The only trouble is you never want to – not this part of you, at least.”

The Vulcan tilted his head. “I speak only when necessary. Is that not customary?”

“No. Not with us.” Jim wanted to reach for him, but caught himself in time. “I miss you.”

“You miss my usual conversational skills, you mean?”

“I just...” He passed a hand over his forehead. “I don’t know. I’m sure your problems far outweigh mine, but I won’t pretend that it hasn’t been difficult for me not to have you around. You—we’re so familiar, you and I. We’re friends.”

Jim brought his hands together on the table, tracing a pattern over his knuckles. The Vulcan’s dark eyes watched him closely.

“I’ve seen some parts I recognize; you, my first officer, and your counterpart, my…” He stopped himself from saying _love_ , because that didn’t seem fair. The real Spock had never consented to such a title. “—the emotional side, but neither of you resemble the man that I call friend. I suppose that might sound strange.”

“I understand perfectly. I would like to apologize for my incompetence in these areas.”

“It’s not incompetence. It’s…something else. Not incompetence.” 

“Captain.” Spock didn’t change his expression, but Jim read the reproach clear as day. “Incompetence simply means the inability to perform an act to successful outcome. There is no secondary judgment applied. Therefore, please accept it as correct.”

Jim hummed. “No.” He took a crouton from his plate and popped it into his mouth for good measure.

Spock blinked, then stood from the table. “I will leave you now.”

“Mm!” Jim got to his feet hastily, holding out an apologetic hand. “I didn’t mean to dissuade you from conversation, Mr. Spock.”

“You did not. However, as we have both finished dinner, it is customary that I return to my quarters and engage in meditation. The hour is optimal, and I believe a balanced mind may be particularly beneficial for the ordeal of beaming two individuals into one.”

It was perfectly logical. Jim dropped his hand to the back of his chair, nodded. “Of course. I’ll let you get to it.”

The Vulcan, however, paused.

“I wished to enquire something, captain, but considered it may be intrusive.”

“You are at liberty to ask me anything, Mr. Spock.”

He examined Jim for a moment, before choosing to speak.

“Do you prefer my human half to myself?”

The question did catch Jim off-guard, and Spock seemed to see it in his expression. He quickly amended himself.

“I am not asking for the satisfaction of my ego, or another internal need. I am merely interested in the facts. I believe it may hold some importance for my full self.”

Jim supposed it was a fair question, but found there was no simple answer. Which Spock did he like best? Perhaps that was better asked per circumstance, not in absolution – from hour to hour, new factors seemed to emerge that shifted his opinion radically.

“At first, perhaps I did. He is certainly more approachable.”

And yet, Jim thought, that didn’t quite encapsulate his experience, or his feelings.

Spock nodded. “Noted. Good evening, sir.”

“Spock.”

The Vulcan turned, watching alertly as Jim crossed the divide between them.

“I don’t prefer him to you.” He placed a tentative hand on Spock’s arm. “Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I prefer humans. It’s more complicated than that.”

Spock’s dark eyes were very different than those of his human half, not warm or curious. These eyes were bottomless, piercing, as vast as the inky black of space. They seemed to look into the mysteries of Jim’s heart, without revealing anything of their own enigma.

Yet, this gaze assured him. This, he recognized, was the man that he placed his trust in time and time again.

Spock nodded, ever certain, ever sure in himself.

“I understand.”

Jim breathed a laugh. “Do you?”

Spock stepped away from his touch, and Jim understood, perhaps for the first time, that it was not in distaste, but simply to service his own security, his own manner.

“May I call upon you this evening? I would appreciate if we kept our routine chess appointment.”

Jim felt a smile spread across his lips. “I’d like that very much.”

Spock inclined his head. “Captain.” And with that, turned and exited the mess hall.

Yet, there was something else, problems yet to be calculated, expressed. _Still_. The word gnawed at the corners of his mind. Jim wanted to follow him, knew something needed to be said, and yet had nothing on his lips.

His answer had not been satisfactory. Because he didn’t prefer this Spock, and he didn’t prefer the human. But he wasn’t neutral either.

Jim brought his hands to his face, holding his head for a moment.

“Oh, Spock,” he murmured, to no one, nothing. “What are we going to do?”

There was much to consider, and so little time left.


	7. One Last Night

Jim puzzled over his feelings through the evening, long after the Terran day-cycle simulation program had dimmed the lights of his quarters.

What the Vulcan said sounded true – stereotypes, opposites, all that was logical. But something wrestled within Jim that resisted it, that violently disagreed. It couldn’t be so simple. That’s what bothered him most. Because Spock wasn’t that simple.

Yes, they were two sides of one man, conflicting, standing at extremes so vast they ran different temperatures. The Vulcan was intelligent, tactful, mature, and yet rigid, pedantic, unfriendly, even cruel. The Human was delicate, amiable, sweet, passionate, and then possessive, wild, insubordinate, tiresome.

Still, so much about them remained the same. Both were considerate, smart. Both had flashes of humour, maintained a sense of pride, refused indignity. And they were completely, utterly incomplete. Jim couldn’t decide which was better, which was most intolerable.

And he was starting to realize why.

It wasn’t Spock. Spock was so…much more than just a list of traits. He wasn’t just the product of two species reaching their melting point, separating like oil and water into neat compartments.

The sum is greater than its parts. There was some old axiom he was forgetting that described this feeling better than he could. The fusion of species had made something else – a third, distinct identity, unrelated to humanity or unbending Vulcan conduct.

So yes he admired the two men. He worried, he felt protective over them, he was their friend. He cared. But he was realizing quickly that they were not halves, but fractions.

Jim Kirk did not love halfway. Not when it came to Spock.

This knowledge gave him no advantage. He was powerless to try to salvage the man he loved from his parts, at least until morning. There was nothing quite so painful or helpless than that.

The buzzer rang. Jim sighed softly, pulled an arm over his eyes.

“Come.”

He heard the door swish open and shut. The lack of greeting and the time were consistent with the evening yeoman. Jim bit down on his feelings, and let the distant hum of the ship sing to him of better days, of tomorrows that might come.

Then—

“Ha!”

Someone jumped upon him.

Jim recoiled, tried to get a hold of his assailant. But quickly, he recognized a blue science uniform, the feel of tickling fingers at his side, the nuzzle of a nose against his temple, and remembered an appointment made through kisses and questionable logic.

“Oh – ah, hi – it’s you, Spock,” he said, trying to sit up with the human equivalent of shrink-wrap stuck to him. “I—er, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Did I surprise you, darling?” Spock’s voice was particularly merry, giggling as he peppered Jim’s cheeks with kisses. “I’m right on time. 2000 hours, sharp, just like you said.”

“Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I.”

Spock pulled away, gazing into his eyes. His were soft, full of unmistakable infatuation. It made Jim uncomfortable.

“Jim.” He ran a finger back and forth across Jim’s lips, and as Jim tried to speak at the same time, it was a bit of a hassle to avoid it. “How I love you. I love you endlessly.”

“That’s nice.” He managed to get a hold of Spock’s hand, moved it aside. “I need to talk with you.”

Spock kissed him, and Jim wondered if his kisses had always been couched in this need, this desperation, as if compelled to prove himself constantly. Shit, he should have been paying attention, reading the signs, not indulging him. Because now this affection needed uprooting, and fast.

“Spock.” Jim dodged the follow up to that kiss. “Spock, are you listening to me? We need to talk.”

“Mm-hm.” But he simply turned his attention to Jim’s neck, teasing the flesh there with his teeth. “Later.”

“No.” He pushed Spock back with some force to communicate his seriousness. “Now.”

Spock blinked rapidly. “Oh… you mean about—?”

“About us. About how we should move forward.”

“Oh.” Spock relented. He got off of Jim, moved away, a hand going to his lips.

Jim took a moment to gather his resolve, his patience for the conversation ahead. It was never easy to let someone down gently, and certainly Jim had failed before. At the best of times it was a thorny business – and these were verging on the worst.

Funnily enough, he almost wished he was breaking up with the Vulcan, if only for the assurance that his words would be weighed with logic. Emotion was a volatile component in any conversation. Hopefully, the human would appreciate a kind approach.  

Spock was focused into empty space, leaning against the wall in deep introspection.

He moved into the path of Spock’s gaze, caught his attention. “Come. Sit.”

Jim patted the space beside him on the bed, shifting to accommodate him.

Spock, though he dropped eye contact at once, hastened to Jim’s side. Once there, he wrapped himself around the arm Jim had gestured with, burying his head on his shoulder. He could feel a slight wetness from Spock’s cheek bleed through his shirt.   

This, he understood, was going to be difficult. Gently, he held Spock’s hand.

“I care for you very much.” Jim gave the hand in his a little squeeze. “And I believe I know how you feel about me.”

A sniff sounded from the human, along with a watery “mmh.”

“Spock?” Nudging him only produced a slight whimper. “Spock, are you upset?”

“N-no.” The waver in his voice invalidated the answer by default.

“Spock, I haven’t said anything yet.”

“And you don’t have to.” His fingers clutched deeper into Jim’s arm, even despite his words. “I’m not stupid. I know what ‘we have to talk’ means. It means you don’t want to be with me.”

It was technically correct. But there were kinder, truer ways of saying it.

“I owe you an explanation.”

Jim leaned his cheek against Spock’s head, allowed the pitiful gasp it elicited to pass without comment.

“I’m asking only that we stop our demonstrations of affection; the kisses, the things that aren’t permitted between officers of our rank. I’m not asking that you stop feeling that affection, or telling you that I don’t appreciate or want your love. I do this, not because I prefer the rules, but because I want to respect them, as another version of you respects them. Because I respect him. And I love you.”

“No, you don’t!”

He leapt away suddenly, staggering to the computer terminal. One hand went to his eyes, swiping at them.

“You don’t love me.” His breath shuddered in a half-sob. “You never loved me. I mean nothing to you.”

“I don’t think you believe that.”

“I do!” he hissed, swinging his fist behind him weakly. “You can’t lie to me. I know the truth!”

Rising, Jim slowly approached him. “I’m sorry. I know this must hurt you. If it means anything at all, I’m doing this for your sake.”

Spock made an unintelligible sound, one that scorned the idea. Jim persisted.

“The real you. You already said your logical side wouldn’t approve of any dalliances between us. That’s something that I will have to contend with. But it wouldn’t be fair to pretend as if that logical side doesn’t exist. He matters to me too.”

Something hitched in his shoulders. “There’s nothing fair about this. You think hurting me will make him like you more, is that it?”

“I’m not choosing sides.”

“Sides! God, Jim, this isn’t a game.” Spock buried his face into his hands. “I love you, and you throw me aside like I’m nothing. I’m your first officer – I’m your fr-friend!”

Gently, Jim raised his hands to touch Spock’s back.

“You’re a part of him. A good part of him, but not the only part. If I show you special treatment, it implies that I don’t find the other parts of him as important. That I only care for the human side of him.”

The human turned. A crescent of his tear-stained cheek was visible over his shoulder, like a pale and sullen moon.

“Do you see now? I’m trying to protect you – all of you, Spock. I won’t let you be hurt by a mistake, or a reckless decision, no matter what feels true right now, or what seems logical to us. It’s not up to us to form a relationship that he has only half a say in. This is his decision, as much as it’s mine.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” Finally, he turned, taking Jim’s hands into his. His face was shining with the tracks of tears, but his touch was firm, his gaze determined. “If it’s a question of logic, of getting that Vulcan on board, then order me to love you. You’re the captain.”

Jim shook his head. “He’s my friend.”

He scoffed, pushing Jim’s hands away with exasperation. “Your _friend_. I don’t mean anything to your friend. What do you think will happen to me once he has control?”

“That isn’t my affair.”

“Yes it is! Of course it is! You love me! It’s your concern as much as it is mine! If you truly loved me—”

“I wouldn’t force any part of you to love me in return. I’m not going to risk the integrity of a friendship on an ‘if’.”

The human eyes were wide, disbelieving, and he was shaking, caught in a terrible chasm of fury and despair.

“You’re throwing it all away!” His voice was losing its power, deteriorating to a hysterical half-whisper. Fingers hooked to Jim’s arms, that strange desperation manifesting physically for the first time. “Please, Jim, please, we’ll never be happy, we’ll never find this again, don’t you see? Don’t you see?”

“Calm down.”

“No! No!” Spock was searching his face wildly. “I – I won’t go! I don’t need to be Vulcan. I’ll stay like this forever. We can be happy, you can love me this way. You’ll see!”

“Spock, please, just calm—”

The doors swished open. Both turned sharply.

Vulcan Spock stood in the doorframe. In one swift survey of his dark eyes, he catalogued their postures, their expressions.

“Ah,” he said, raising one eyebrow at his other half. "I have arrived too early.”

“ _Jim!_ ”

It was a hiss from the human’s lips, the desperation turning to realization. He retracted the grip on Jim’s arms as if the touch burned.

“Both of us?” The fire of injustice had been struck in his heart, contorting his expression in deep betrayal. “You asked both of us to your room?”

The implication rushed into focus – as did a flush of colour to Jim’s cheeks, which probably made him seem a lot guiltier than he was.

“No! I – er, Spock, tell him, we had a chess appointment.”

“Chess!” The human cried it as if it was an admission of adultery. There were tears brimming his eyes. “Chess! Oh, now, I see. So concerned about the logical side, ‘what about the logical side’ you said! I understand – this is where your loyalties lie! You never asked _me_ to play chess!”

“You do not like chess.” That was the Vulcan, as impassive as ever in the face of his human half’s hysteria.

“Shut up!” But his emotional foundation seemed too weak to support the intensity of his feelings. The human’s posture buckled. “Shut up.”

“Spock.”

“You l-love him.” He hid his face into his hand, shoulders convulsing, voice coming in gasps. “It was always h-him, wasn’t it? Even if he can’t love you – even if I can, you’d still choose him. Or maybe it isn’t love you’re interested in. Huh? Is that…is that why you…?”

He seemed unable to say it, as a fresh wave of sobs overtook him. 

“No.” Jim moved to him, placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, but the human sprang back, knocked his comfort aside. “Spock, no, that’s not—”

“Leave me alone! I hate you!” He trembled violently, in the terrible anger born only of great hurt. “Both of you!”

And with that, he fled through their shared bathroom door.

“Spock!” Jim called after, following a few steps. It was to no avail.

“Let him be, captain.” The Vulcan, true to form, was measured, calm. “There is nothing to be gained in pursuing him.”

“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let him…”

Jim stopped himself. It wasn’t prudent to betray any more than he already had. The affection between him and that part of Spock was personal, and they’d settled it. The Vulcan would know soon enough.

If Spock wondered, he didn’t ask. Tact was an undervalued trait, Jim mused; one he hadn’t properly appreciated in his first officer.

Turning, he smiled, in apology, and with a tentative offer.

“Chess, Mr. Spock?”

“If you think it wise, captain.” The Vulcan folded his hands behind his back. “My counterpart likened the game with treason.”

“And what do you liken it to?”

Spock blinked slowly. “An opportunity. One I wish to take.”

“By all means.”

They set up the board, took their standard colours. Jim waited for Spock to make his move.

The game began. Pawn. Rook. Pawn.

“Do not mistake me, captain.” A dark bishop darted out into the fray; pawns scrambled to adjust. “I do not intend to play for long.”

“Feeling lucky, Spock?” He slid his opposing knight across the board. “Check.”

“Luck is irrelevant in this matter.” For good measure, Spock eliminated the knight with his queen.

Jim chuckled. “Touché.”

“Chess functions, among other things, as a means of facilitating interaction, encouraging relationship on levels that conversation alone cannot sustain. It has allowed us to exercise our wit and challenge the authoritative dynamic of our respective offices. It is an undercurrent to our professional, and personal bond. As such, it is the most logical event around which to reassert who we are.”

It was a proposition, asking for the truth of their emotional realities, their feelings, in the most rational, detached language. It came with rules – rules Jim could accept, and bend.

He kept his gaze steady, his poker face undisturbed.

“High praise for your counterpart.” Jim knocked over a nearby rook casually. “And a bit of an assumption on your part that his actions could alter our future. Besides, I thought you preferred to be uninvolved in matters of emotion.”

Spock traced the edge of his queen piece with his fingertip, considering his move. “Regardless of preference, I am involved. Incidentally, I believe it was you who protested no preference between the two of us – though you clearly desire the human.”

Jim’s eyes shot to meet the dark gaze – it glittered with a measure of victory.

“You are in check, captain.”

He slid a pawn in front of his king. “Is that what your human half said?”

“It is what I have deduced.” Spock adjusted his queen accordingly. “You had no other reason to meet with him in your quarters. Alone.”

Rook forward. Two knights, one black, one white moved in parallel courses past each other – seeking disparate yet common ends.

“And if you are correct, what then?”

“You will be in violation of Starfleet Code. Regulation 1138. A captain may not engage in intimate relations with any officer aboard ship. It is a unique offense in that its punishment is undefined by the Code, leaving it open to Starfleet Command’s Judicial Branch to determine the penalty on a case by case basis.”

“If the captain is caught, of course.”

“Sir.” His tone suggested he didn’t care for Jim’s nonchalance in this matter. “I would hope you are aware of the consequences your indiscretion presents. There is a possibility that you would lose your command of the Enterprise.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Jim smiled. “Have you readied the paperwork?”

And that called the bluff. Spock lowered his gaze onto the board.

“I am not certain what has passed between you.” His voice was composed, still formal, but it had grown quieter. “I do not wish to be told. I shall know. You need not fear my reprisal, as Spock will be equally responsible for any indiscretion once returned to his full self.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Spock’s eyes fixed upon his queen, which stood apart from all the rest, untouched. Alone.

“That is what I wished to inquire, sir.”

Jim considered the board. It was largely unguarded, Spock’s defences having been systematically dismantled. Logic, he was sure, predicted his victory in less than three moves.

He wasn’t interested in victory.

“I wonder if you have all the facts, Mr. Spock.” Carefully, he removed the pawn that guarded his white king, leaving it open. “My romantic preferences are not limited to humanity.”

The Vulcan straightened. “Why have you—?”

“You know why.” Jim held his ground. They had danced around this for too long - at last he would dare to broach the issue. “You’ve studied me for three years. Don’t tell me in all that time, you never wanted to know how I felt.”

“It is not a matter of wanting, captain.” He was noticeably flustered, the sudden pivot in conversation obviously unexpected, unprepared. “You would risk—?”

“Yes.” Jim’s pulse quickened. “For you, yes.”

“But I…”

There was a green hue to his complexion that had not been there before. He shook his head. 

“I have not asked for this.”

“You never needed to. You don’t need to.”

And, deciding to gamble on the look in Spock’s eyes, Jim moved to touch his slender hand.

Spock recoiled before he could reach. The look of horror that flared in his expression told Jim that he had gone too far.

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” Spock stood, quickly. “I take no offense, captain.”

But Jim could see that wasn’t true, and ached for what he had done.

“Will you finish the game?” He stood to balance the disruption, to meet Spock at his level. “Perhaps we could start again.”

“Forgive me – no.” Spock locked his hands behind his back, assuming his most formal posture. “I have overstayed my welcome. There are other duties to which I must attend.”

Now Jim was the one feeling desperate. A part of him wished for Spock to stay, to hear him out. _With the right logic_ , a voice said within, _with the right reasons, you could love me too._

But he had no authority over Spock’s heart, nor any grounds to overstep the boundaries of their professional regard.

He nodded, once. “Of course.”

Spock turned, and walked to the door. Yet, he stopped short.

“You love me, then, captain?”

Jim observed him, how his Vulcan pride kept him detached, stiff, though he could see the disorder grappling beneath, his struggle to comprehend such a possibility. And he pitied him. There was no need to complicate matters further.

“No.” When Spock looked around, he afforded him a small smile. “I don’t require your love, Spock. I’m not demanding anything, I’m not asking. When you come back, when you’re yourself again, there will be no change between us. I promise.” 

The Vulcan stared at him for a long moment, but his expression was inscrutable. Finally, he lowered his gaze.

“Acknowledged, sir.”

Only when the doors swished shut behind him did Jim allow himself to breathe.

It was over. He’d done what he’d promised to do, maintained the careful balance that they’d tread for too many years. The morning would bring normalcy, return Spock to himself.

They had shared their last affection, would never share another.

In a way, he thought, the human had been right. He had thrown aside his chance. There was an absence in the room, in his soul, upon the place where Spock had once kissed him.

That night the captain’s quarters were hushed, and lonely, and cold.


	8. To Thine Own Self

The doors swished open, and with it came a small moan.

“Go away.”

“I have returned for the evening.”

Spock looked up into his own face (a phenomena he still wasn’t familiar with, and was secretly glad he never had to be). He brushed aside the lingering tears on his cheeks, narrowing his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be spending the night with the captain?” He tried to force a wry laugh – it came out more a whine. “Or are you just here to change? Don’t tell me you’re so fucking puritanical that you won’t make love in uniform.”

“My opinion on intercourse is identical to that of our true self,” he said, pursing his lips slightly. “Unlike your own.”

Spock huffed, but stayed silent. It was better not to press the issue if he wanted to avoid a long lecture on “the real Spock” - whatever that meant anymore.

Spock sat down beside him. Spock shifted slightly, somewhat to make room for Spock, and somewhat to make sure they weren’t touching.

“How…do you feel?”

The question was awkward, especially coming from that half.

“What does it matter?” Spock folded his arms over his chest, choosing to linger in his bitterness. “He chose you. He loves you.”

“He has indicated otherwise.”

That caught him off-guard.

“What? But didn’t you—?”

Spock shook his head. “We were not intimate. We shared no romantic interaction of any kind.”

“He didn’t want you?”

“I do not know what he wants. He both pursued and rejected me as a romantic partner. His actions are not founded in logic – I cannot therefore judge his intentions with any accuracy. The only explanation I can rationalize is that he has acted in order to appease our desires without ever wanting either of us in return.”

“Oh.”

That made no more sense to Spock than it did to Spock. But he could sympathize nonetheless.

Gingerly, he placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry he rejected you. I know how that feels.”

The touch was returned, equally cautious.

“I wish to apologize for how I behaved on the Bridge. As the logical half, I should have better predicted your motivations, and your emotional needs. My violence toward you was uncalled for. I am sorry.”

“Thanks. I guess I've also acted pretty stupid.” Spock sighed, put a hand to his head. “Shit, I hate that you were right. There was no reason to try to pursue Jim now - and now it's all my fault that he hates us."

"I believe you are judging yourself unfairly. You are emotionally driven, and your lack of control over these feelings are significant mitigating factors in your favour. You are not entirely responsible for your actions."

Spock scoffed. "That sounds good, but I'm still the one who totally screwed our chances of ever getting Jim's love for real.”

“It may have been our mutual actions that ‘screwed’ us, _shal_.”

“Still, I was a real idiot.”

“Mm.”

They sat for a moment in silence, until a hitching breath caught the heightened hearing of one Spock.

“You are still in distress.”

“Shh—shut up, I’ll get over it.”

“No.”

Then Spock did something unexpected. Reaching for his other half stiffly, he pulled him into an embrace – rather more like a headlock, as the Vulcan was not used to the mechanics.

“What are y—?”

“Quiet. I will explain.”

Spock shifted uncomfortably in Spock’s arms, but obeyed.

“Though you were hysterical and imprecise in your criticisms, I have concluded that you are correct in objecting to my conduct. I have failed to properly sustain you as a part of myself, and I mean to amend this.” He patted his head woodenly, three times. “Accept this comfort, as a first action of change for the better.”

Spock made a watery noise, then suddenly capitulated to the affection, hugging tighter. “Ok.”

It was many hours until dawn. Many hours before they would be one, and yet no longer exist. But both could agree that these were hours best spent at each other’s side; tentatively growing acquainted with the practice of self-care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: Shal = self 
> 
> Just a mini chapter this time - longer ones to come! Couldn't escape this fic without a little bit of Spock's POV - and I couldn't resist the confusion of two characters with the same name in one scene. Thanks for all the kudos/comments - they've made my day(s)!


	9. Together Again

Morning arrived and with it, a nervous energy that buzzed through the ship.

They were on course to Delta X. 

Mr. Scott had quadruple-checked the plan with Jim in the last two hours alone. Too much rode on this one shot to even contemplate deviating from their strategy.

Once they arrived in orbit, the Enterprise would bank at full speed around Delta X, attracting its maximum energy. At the point of greatest gravitational pull, Janice Rand would initiate the beaming sequence. When the two Spocks dematerialized, the Enterprise would shut off its engines, and attempt to steer itself out of the event horizon of the planet. Then, hopefully, a singular Spock would beam back.

Between the interpersonal chaos of two Spocks, Jim hadn’t the slightest time to consider the potential difficulties of trying to regain one. Their plan had never been tested, never even dreamed of, and had no guarantee. The sheer effort of re-entering the unstable system could blow the engines, or crack the hull of the ship. Spock could beam back in the same two pieces, or break into more, or simply not come back at all.

Staggering risks. But risk was their business, and their only option.

“Captain.”

Lieutenant Uhura met him in the halls outside the briefing room, touching her communications earpiece even as she handed the mission details to him.

“Five minutes until we reach orbit. I’ve notified both Mr. Spocks to report to the transporter room.”

“Thank you, lieutenant. Have you been in engineering?” he asked, noticing a magnetic polarity tool tucked into her belt. While he was used to Uhura having all the answers, her ability to juggle tasks without compromising efficiency never ceased to amaze.

“They needed extra hands on the wiring. Pardon me – Jason, it’s two-five-nine, high frequency channel, please.” She adjusted her earpiece, with a disapproving sigh. “Sorry, sir. The engineer boys aren’t bad, but they don’t have the same flair for positronic circuitry that comm. officers do. Oh – or did you want me to take position on the Bridge?”

“No, that’s alright. I have every confidence that you know how to manage yourself, lieutenant.”

She grinned, and made to go, but turned back suddenly. Her hand came to his forearm in reassurance.

“Sir, I wanted to say— I’m sure everything will be fine. Mr. Spock means so much to us all. We’ll keep him safe.”

Her words impressed upon Jim just how close they had all become, how important each one of his officers was, not just to him, but to the ship. More than any other crew he’d known, a common bond of loyalty and fondness tied them together, closer than even those of family.

He placed a hand over hers, in gratitude.

“I know you will.”

Nothing else needed to be said. They shared a smile, then hastened to their respective duties.

There was much to be done.

 

*

 

They waited for him.

It was so similar to their first appearance – the Vulcan stood silent, still; the human paced nearby, muttering a liturgy of self-encouragement under his breath.

Both looked up to Jim as the doors swished shut. One nodded, one gave a timid smile.

“I think we’re ready, captain,” said Janice at the controls. Her tone was quiet, recognizing the gravity of the moment.

“Thank you.” Jim walked closer to the platform. “Gentlemen.”

“We are prepared,” said the Vulcan.

Jim looked to the human, raised his brows. “Mr. Spock?”

“Yes.” The human closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

The Vulcan simply took hold of his hand.

“ _Captain,_ ” Scotty’s voice sounded over the intercom. “ _We’re reaching maximum strain on our engines._ ”

“Yeoman?”

Janice nodded, set the transporter signal.

It was the last moment. Jim allowed himself one final look.

They were the same, and yet there were slight differences from the morning they arrived. The human, though he saw the nervous pulse within him, held himself with dignity, no less dutiful than Jim could hope for in any officer. Subtly, he saw the Vulcan give his counterpart’s hand a press with his own – a gesture of comfort, solidarity. A fundamentally emotional act.  

Pride and affection swelled in Jim’s chest. They had grown. Their common aspiration toward improvement proved they really were parts of his Spock.

“Good luck, gentlemen. I’ll see you soon.”

The Vulcan inclined his head. This could be the end, the gesture seemed to say. There was great privilege in sharing that with another.

Jim gathered his courage. 

“Engage beaming sequence.”

The amber light of the transporter caught the two men.

The human’s eyes snapped open.

“Jim.”

And it was soft, and aching, and spoke of all that was to be lost.

Jim stiffened, restrained the instinct that said to run to him, to surrender to tender feelings, gentle kisses, to disregard all principle.

“You’re coming back to me, Mr. Spock. That’s an order.”

He saw the Vulcan raise an amused eyebrow, recognizing, of course, the order was unenforceable. The human’s expression crumpled into despair, perhaps at the same recognition.

“Jim, I lo—” 

But the amber light enveloped their figures, until nothing but the space where they had been remained.

Jim realized, with incisive suddenness, he would never see the two again. 

Had he made the right move?

“Transporter readings holding steady, captain.”

The blare of the red alert signal snapped Jim out of his thoughts. Striding to the comm. unit on the wall, he punched the link to the Bridge.

“Sulu, status report.”

“ _Something’s changed, captain – the gravity keeps increasing_.”

“Haven’t we shut down engine power?”

“ _Aye, sir!"_ Scotty cried, tying in from the engineering station. “ _But it’s pulling us in anyway!”_

It was beginning to be noticeable. The floor beneath his feet was moving inch by inch, dragged downward against the pull of gravity.

_“Something must be different – something that was present the first time we left orbit, but not now.”_

Jim nodded, cataloguing the differences and arriving at an answer. “The Romulan vessel. But why? Why does that make such a difference?”

“ _Captain, if we don’t exit in the next two minutes, we’ll crash just the same as the Romulans did!”_

Janice produced a warning noise, hands flying across the transporter controls as she attempted to compensate for the imbalance. “Don’t pull away yet. We’ll lose Mr. Spock.”

“ _We’ll lose the rest of us if you don’t—”_

“Understood,” Jim said, sharply. He nodded to Janice. “Do what you can.”

She gave him a hasty thumbs up in acknowledgment, eyes fixed upon her task.

“ _Hello, Keptin?”_

Jim looked up to the comm. unit. “Yes, Mr. Chekov?”

“ _I do not mean to interrupt – but I think I may have an answer!”_

“Go on.”

“ _Well, I was speaking to Mister, er, the Wulcan Spock before he left. He was talking of the Newton and the balance you must have in matters of the physics. This balance – this is what I am meaning. It may be that the Romulan ship acted in an opposite force, displacing our weight against the pull of the gravity.”_

“A counterbalance.” Jim put a hand to his lip, mind racing around the theory. “Of course. That’s why we were able to keep orbit – the Romulans created the most resistance – they attracted the most attention from the gravitational force. If we’re going to get out of here, we’ll need something to counter us.”

“ _But, captain!”_ cried Scotty. _“There’s no ship for light years, we can’t—”_

“ _Wait! It does not need the physical! We can have the non-physical, the, ah, what am I meaning?”_ Chekov’s voice was high, frantic – clearly unable to find the words in Standard.

“ _Sulu here, captain. I think I read him. We could use an energy substitute, say a barrage of photon torpedoes, to cancel out our mass-energy profile. If we fired it slightly off orbit, the gravity would have to concentrate its resources on pulling in a moving target.”_

“Giving us a chance to escape.” Jim snapped his fingers, the pieces making sense. “I like it. How soon can we have photon torpedoes ready for firing?”

“ _Ten seconds, captain.”_

“On my mark, Mr. Sulu.”

“ _Yes, sir.”_

“Can you rematerialize Spock at the same time, yeoman?”

Janice nodded vigorously.

_“Torpedoes ready.”_

“Now, Mr. Sulu!”

The ship gave a violent jerk, as the torpedoes shot into the vacuum of space. Blind to the operation, Jim braced himself, shutting his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt the ship pivot hard. A screech of resistance stopped the turn, and then…

They shuddered into movement.

“ _Captain!”_

“Report,” he said, ignoring the lurch of fear in his stomach.

“ _We’re pulling away – we’re out of the gravity!”_

The sigh Jim released was all too welcome, and all too demonstrative of his relief.

He leaned into the wall beside the unit. “Get us out of here.”

“Got him!” Janice cried, as the transporter began its strange whirring music, the amber materializing effect shining upon the beaming platform.

At the same moment, however, the transporter doors opened – making Jim jump.

“Bones!” 

“Don’t think I’m not gonna be involved in this,” Bones muttered as he hurried in, uncapping a hypo with his teeth. “He’s your officer, sure, but he’s my patient first.”

Jim put a grateful hand on McCoy’s shoulder, the mixture of adrenaline and nerves preventing him from doing much else.

And suddenly the light was gone. The three officers looked in tandem to the transporter platform, drawing simultaneous, hopeful breath.

One man stood upon the beaming spot, where two had stood before. He had Vulcan ears, and features. He examined his feet, his torso, his hands with some curiosity.

“How fascinating,” he said, quietly.

Looking up, he met Jim’s gaze. Dark eyes. Precise and assessing. Warm.

“I believe I have accomplished your order, captain.” He tilted his head, a measure of fond familiarity in the gesture. “I have returned to you.”  

Jim wasn’t sure if he wanted to jump for joy, or burst into tears. Perhaps both. He settled for a broad, and in all likelihood, stupidly happy smile.

“Spock,” he began, but was pushed aside by McCoy.

“Just a minute! Just a minute, ya malfunction magnet.” He jabbed his arm with a hypo. “That’s a stabilizer – in case some other kind of gravitational hocus pocus has made you lose your damn mind.” 

Spock blinked at the barrage of medical examination, though not without amusement. “Logical, doctor, but highly unnecessary. Although that does seem to be your standard protocol.”

“Ugh!” McCoy threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know why I bothered with precautions. That’s Spock, alright!”

Jim started to laugh, perhaps a little more than necessary, relief pouring off of him in waves.

Spock stepped off the platform, nodding to a thrilled-looking Janice Rand.

“My gratitude is to you, yeoman, for your expertise. Should you ever require reference for promotion, do not hesitate to request mine.”

“Funny you mention it.” Rand glanced to Jim hopefully. “I have been looking to get on an engineering team.”

Jim grinned. “Yeoman, you can have your pick of the roster. I think you're more than qualified for any job aboard ship.”

“You mean it?” The awe that overtook her face was endearingly sincere. “Gee, thanks – I mean, thank you! Thank you very much, captain. Not bad for one shift!”

She sauntered out, thoroughly pleased. Meanwhile, McCoy, having grumbled over his hypo dosages to his satisfaction, returned to the subject – rather, the Vulcan at hand.

“You’d better follow me down to sickbay just in case, Mr. Spock.”

“Come on, Bones, is that really necessary?” Jim looked between his two senior officers. “Between the two halves, he must have filled his visit quota for next three months.”

“I believe the doctor’s suggestion is sensible. ”

Spock had a hand to his forehead, brows furrowed slightly with pain. When Bones and Jim started for him worriedly, however, he shook his head.

“I am well. My mind is merely attempting to comprehend the consciousness of two individuals. The volume of memories I am currently organizing is proving onerous.”

A small huff of laughter escaped McCoy. “I’ll bet that’s an understatement.”

“It is.”

“And quite the headache, I’m sure.” Jim grinned, but stepped back. “Go rest up.”

Spock nodded dimly, his usual focus clouded with what must be a myriad of memories, sensations, thoughts. McCoy escorted him to the door, keeping close watch on his patient.

Before they could leave, however, Spock suddenly turned back.

“Captain,” he said, with some alarm. His eyes were wide. “The physics lab?”

Heat flooded Jim's cheeks. McCoy, peering back into the room from behind Spock, squinted with confusion that bordered on suspicion.

Trapped, he merely gave a sheepish grin. “Well…after all, it is the logical place for experimentation, Mr. Spock.”

Spock raised a highly dubious brow. Still, he made no comment beyond swiftly exiting the room. The look that McCoy threw him as he followed was thankfully no wiser to what he truly meant – Jim offered a gesture of feigned puzzlement.

This episode, evidently, was yet to be resolved.

Taking the lift to the Bridge, he wondered if Spock would be all right. The past twenty-four hours had likely rattled him to the core, having his intensely private world put on display before his peers. He could only imagine the pain, the mortification that would cause – how isolated he must feel.

Again, Jim found himself worrying that he had made it all worse.

It would be important to keep his word. They were still the same people as before, and he would not allow one anomaly to jeopardize the friendship he cherished more than any other.

“Captain!”

The full compliment of the crew rose to attention as he stepped onto the Bridge. It startled him, registering the looks of worry, the questions in Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov’s eyes.

“Is he—?” Uhura didn’t finish, putting a nervous hand to her lips.

Scotty stepped forward, seeming to summon courage. “When you didn’t send word, we assumed that…well…”

“No.” Jim shook his head, realizing what they meant. “I’ve been very careless – I should have signalled right away. Our operation was a perfect success, thanks to your efforts. Mr. Spock is back home.”

The Bridge erupted in cheers. Uhura rushed to him, flung her arms around his neck – Jim hugged her in return. Sulu punched the air, while Chekov and Scotty linked arms in an uncoordinated, joyful dance.

They were in no mood to return to executive duties, and, really, they were overdue for leave. Jim ordered for Alpha shift to conclude early, and celebrations to start – saluted by the surrounding crew as his best order all month.

So they dissolved into their respective groups. Chekov and Sulu took their usual positions on helm (someone had to keep steering the ship, after all). Uhura switched on a popular music frequency, and soon the lazy intertwining rhythms floated over the people of the Enterprise and their laughter-filled conversation.

This was how it was supposed to be, he thought. These were the moments they lived for – the simple, cozy domesticity found nowhere else but amongst the crew of a starship. It was the kind of image Jim had conjured as a young man, the spun dreams of a lonely, studious boy who wanted nothing more than to have a ship, a crew, a home.

And he did have that, now. Yet it somehow felt empty.

“You alright, captain?”

It was Scotty, offering him a cup of coffee. Jim realized he had been lost in thought.

“Sure.” He smiled, taking the coffee with pleasure. “It’s been a long two days.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll drink to that.”

Standing, he lifted the cup in toast to the crew that had gathered around the perimeter of the Bridge. “To a successful operation – and the crew that made it happen.”

“To Mr. Spock,” cried Scotty, raising his higher.

“Yes, to Spock!”

“To Spock,” came the chorus of the crew.

“Spock,” Jim echoed, taking a drink. It was bitter, it wasn’t his usual order. He grimaced. “And to us all. Let’s try to stay in one piece.” 

That roused laughter from the group. The officers quickly returned to their prior conversations. Scotty gestured to the lift, to the group that looked ready to move their celebrations the lounge – and more likely to the lounge’s bar. 

Jim waved them on, signalling he’d join them soon, as he accepted the final reports for the day from a nearby ensign. A captain never got away from work that easily.

This was what he wanted, he had to remind himself. They were back to normal – Spock was back to normal. They were safe, and happy, and together again. Nothing else could be asked.

A small, true voice said that wasn’t entirely true.

Shaking his head, he headed for the lift. He’d made a promise, and he’d keep it. Spock would never have to worry about his advances ever again, and if it meant Jim would think about chess matches, and the physics lab, and what might have been for the rest of his days, then that was the price.

He had long resigned himself to the fact that love and service were incompatible bedfellows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Really got into my TOS episode mode here - nothing like a good old fashioned space anomaly to solve your problems. Disclaimer: I do not pretend to know anything about astrophysics or science in general, so if anything is terribly wrong, blame it on the "fiction" part of science fiction. 
> 
> Will Jim and Spock ever get together? Stay tuned to find out! <3


	10. A Tender Union

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter this time! I couldn't resist adding a few details from Discovery (spoiler free, of course) - eager readers look out for them!

With celebrations in full force, Jim decided it was time for the captain to retire for the evening. After all, he was still the same nerd of his Academy days at heart, no matter his reputation.

While this century was almost perfect, Jim was inclined to believe that no technological advancement could ever beat the reliability of a good old-fashioned book.

It was in the midst of one that he heard the buzzer for his quarters ring.

“Come,” he said, finishing the last line of the paragraph before glancing up. “Oh, Spock!”

His first officer stepped into the room, letting the door shut behind him.

“Good evening, captain. I hope I am not intruding?”

“Not at all. Though I would have thought you’d be enjoying the celebrations. They are in your honour, after all.”

“I did attend, for a time.” The way he pursed his lips suggested it had been brief. “As a rule I find the cacophonous volume and absence of activity in most human social gatherings to be significant detractors from their potential enjoyment.”

“And most of them are boring.”

Spock produced a slight frown. “I believe I said that.”

Jim smiled, dropped his gaze. 

Even a day apart had been enough to miss their friendship. Jim had never had someone with whom he could be totally himself, without needing some front of affection, or cheer, or aloofness to live up to an ideal. But Spock wasn’t interested in ideals – he cared only for truth, for reality, and that care had allowed Jim to grow into a better man. 

He hoped Spock could say the same of him.

“I would have assumed the event appealed to your sensibilities,” said Spock, politely inquisitive, as always. “You are a particularly social individual.”

He shrugged. “Even so, I was never much of a party animal. I guess this proves it.”

Jim gestured to the book. 

“A paperback – is that the correct terminology?”

“Yeah. I thought I’d catch up on my reading while I had the chance.”

Spock stepped forward, real interest in his intelligent gaze. Jim offered the book for closer examination.

“Shakespeare,” Spock said softly, perusing the page Jim had left open, with a regard that spoke to familiarity. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Twelfth Night.”

“It’s a favourite of mine.”

“Indeed?” Spock’s eyes wandered over the text for a moment longer, before returning the book. “What distinguishes it?”

“Mm. Hard to say. It’s entertaining, well written. And I always had a soft spot for Viola and Orsino. I certainly find their love story stronger than some of his others.” Jim set it on the side table, running a thumb down the ridged spine. “Though I wouldn’t judge myself an expert in romance.”

 _Especially after you._ But Jim was not quite so foolhardy to say that aloud.

Spock remained silent. Jim wondered if he was thinking of what passed between them – of what Jim had done.

It was obvious now, with Spock returned to himself, how the halves paled in comparison. How utterly stupid he’d been to imagine that moment of hasty, rushed passion could be worth tossing aside the careful affection they had painstakingly built. Spock was not so vulgar, so simple. Yet, Jim had fallen for it anyway, cast off all thought of friendship for a burst of heat, a dozen kisses, a fantasy.

He was lucky he was the captain, Jim thought darkly. There was no other reason why Spock would suffer his irresponsibility.

Still, he dismissed such thoughts. Spock could condemn him at his leisure – he’d try to light the mood until then.

“You know, it was once believed the Bard’s plays were universal. I’m not sure they hold up to our modern understanding of the universe, but I do think we’ve made quite a case for Twelfth Night’s relevance to our own lives. Confusion, chaos.”

“I believe there are texts which offer more direct parallels, captain.” Spock, to Jim’s surprise, came to sit upon the edge of the bed. “While Twelfth Night is defined by its complications, the contradictory and disruptive nature of The Comedy of Errors is more accurate to our most recent dramatic episode.”

“Not to mention the twins.”

“Indeed.” Spock hummed slightly, looking outward in recollection. “We came into the world like brother and brother. And now we go hand in hand, not one before another.”

Jim exhaled softly, knowing the quote well. “Dromio, Act Five. Scene One?"

“Correct. Line four hundred and thirty nine in the Vulcan translation – although as it is the last line of the play, the point is perhaps irrelevant.”

“I didn’t know you were so well versed in the canon.” There was something wonderful in the notion of Spock reading Shakespeare, memorizing the words that Jim had mouthed so many times in passing. “You impress me, commander.”

A slight lift of the brow greeted that honorific – Jim only ever used it when being particularly teasing.

“It is a skill gained by repetition, not innate talent. My mother read Shakespeare’s texts to me in my childhood. I have always had difficulty in processing written information, particularly in languages such as Standard, which lack the logical phonic roots of Vulcan speech. The plays were of great use in my studies, as Elizabethan grammar more closely resembles the Vulcan dialect than contemporary constructions.”

“Difficulty?  _You?_ " Jim held up an apologetic hand, realizing how that sounded. “Sorry, I don’t mean to condescend. I just never imagined you having trouble with anything, Mr. Spock, never mind learning.”

Spock shook his head. “I take your surprise quite the opposite way, captain. Early in my life, I resolved that I would not be disqualified for any of my inherent traits, Vulcan or human. Your opinion suggests that I am succeeding.”

Jim smiled, feeling a swell of pride for his friend. “You are.”

An expression softened Spock’s features, his lips curved upward without truly betraying his feelings.

Jim moved forward, both on the bed and in the conversation. “I would be happy to debate their merits with you someday. We could start with Comedy of Errors, since you like it.”

Spock huffed softly, raising a contradicting brow.

“Preferably not, sir. I am not generally fond of the comedies. They are, on principle, highly illogical.”

Jim laughed, because he should have known.

“More of a tragedian, are you, Mr. Spock?”

Spock warded off the suggestion with a blink. “The history plays are my preferred genre. Although Shakespeare’s writing is invariably emotional no matter the subject. A matter of his humanity, no doubt.”

“No doubt.”

Jim came to settle at the edge of the bed, crossing his legs underneath him. Spock shifted in response, so that they could sit level, look into each other’s eyes. 

It was so normal. But for some reason that simple movement made Jim’s heart jump – produce a little cry of _it is him!_

Indeed, as they spoke, he had been noticing things that he hadn’t even realized were missing, little intricacies that he had never paid attention to until they weren’t there. His half-expressions, the amiable quality of his voice, even the way he folded his hands on his lap, not quite so efficient as a full Vulcan, yet too precise for a human mannerism.

A warm smile spread across Jim’s lips, unbidden, and he hummed, happiness settling in his chest. “It’s so good to have you back. I was lost without you.”

Spock’s gaze fluttered to his lap, allowing Jim a view of his lashes, the clean line of his lilac eye shadow. “Thank you, captain. I…too found the experience to be confusing.”

“Have you recovered somewhat?” Jim rocked forward in his seat, not following through on his impulse to make contact. “I remember it took me a day or two to recoup after I— I’m not sure what the technical term would even be. Re-joined myself, maybe?”

Spock nodded. “I underwent all necessary scans and procedures, as well as undertaking the recuperation you suggested. I have also completed the process of recalling all that occurred to both halves of myself.”

And he glanced up from beneath his lashes. There was an unspoken implication to that, but the events of the past day had fallen at such extremes that Jim couldn’t be completely sure which departure from normality he referenced.

However, he could guess.

So, he offered a small shrug, one that he hoped was forgiving, that communicated he held no judgment for anything that had passed between them.

“The crew knows you’ve had a rough time. They don’t blame you for anything. And I’ve informed them that any gossip about your fight on the Bridge will get them docked in rank.”

A little hum sounded. “That was not my concern.”

Somehow, Jim already knew that. There was only one thing that stuck out as truly unforgivable on both their parts.

Jim looked down. “We don’t have to talk about it. Not if you don’t want to.”

“No.” Spock wet his lips. “I wish to discuss the consequences of my actions.”

“There are no consequences.”

That was met with a questioning, doubtful stare. Reaching across the divide, Jim touched his elbow.

“What I promised still stands, Spock. You weren’t yourself. I’m not going to punish you for what you couldn’t help. For all intents in purposes, it never happened.”

“Captain, I—”

What stopped him, Jim wasn’t sure. There was something wavering in his expression, a question, a word that seemed ready to spill over. Yet he was hesitating, being dragged away from a precipice by a force within himself.

“Spock.” Jim moved his hand to his forearm. “Spock, it’s alright.”

Spock pressed his lips together for a moment. He lowered his gaze.

“I committed an act which fundamentally redefined the terms of our relationship.” A little exhale, not a laugh but something close, escaped him. “There is nothing ‘all right’ about our circumstances.”

“But there can be.”

Jim shifted forward, placed his other hand on Spock’s shoulder so that his sincerity might be imparted by more than just words.

“I’m not the head of Starfleet. This isn’t about duty.” He gave him a slight squeeze, reassuring. “It’s just us, and it will stay that way. I won’t be upset, no matter how you feel. I am as much to blame for anything that happened as you are – probably more.”

Spock was silent. Touching him, however, Jim could feel a subtle tremor running beneath his calm exterior.

Maybe he’d better step back.

“Let’s treat this as a theoretical exercise,” he suggested, bringing his hand slowly down Spock’s arm. “You wanted to talk consequences – alright, you’re my first officer, advise me. If we were to move forward from the breach of protocol, theoretically, what are our options?”

It seemed to work. Spock straightened, nodded quickly. 

“In regards to Starfleet, it is advisable to refrain from reporting our brief involvement.”

Spock’s words were lightning fast, yet incredibly comprehensible. Nerves, Jim realized; fear. He made to grip him tighter, but suddenly felt a force push against the back of his mind, keep out thoughts he hadn’t realized he was projecting.

He pulled his hands away. Spock did not visibly relax.

“Similarly, I do not believe it prudent to make secondary records of the event, such as in personal logs, or in communication with other crew members. These actions would invariably lead to the exposure of the true events, and our subsequent reprimand by Starfleet. The potential punishments I believe I detailed in my mono-Vulcan form.”  

“Spock.”

His eyes flashed up to Jim’s.

“What do you want?”

“Do you not know?” The question was soft, but pained. Spock shook his head. “It is futile to ask, captain. If it were merely a matter of wanting, there would be no uncertainty. But it is not. It is you, your answer that will determine what must follow.”

“Then ask, Spock. Ask me what you will, and I’ll answer.”

There was a long pause. Perhaps there was no single question, no easy way forward.

Jim nearly made to speak, when Spock suddenly complied.

“What consequence would you impose if the indiscretion occurred now?”

Again, silence, but Jim’s mind was so full of sudden clarity, understanding the possibility that this question offered, that it did not seem like silence at all.

Because this was not theoretical, and there was no other reason to ask about their prospects unless it was possible.

Unless _they_ were possible.

Hope began to unfurl in his chest; cautious, but growing. In his lap, Jim’s hands began to tremble.

“Well, I…” Jim cleared his throat, realizing it was dry. “That would depend upon the options available to me.”

“There are three possibilities that I have determined as plausible courses of action.”

Jim gestured for him to continue, trying to muster a steady breath.

“The first is the recognition of our violation of Starfleet policy, and the necessary penalty. In this case, our separation, likely through a ship-to-ship transfer, is advi—”

“No.” When Spock glanced up at him, he shook his head. “Policy has nothing to do with this.”

“The second,” Spock said slowly, analysing Jim in piercing detail as he spoke, “would be to treat the incident as an anomaly. To return to our standard platonic relations. In essence, to forget the misconduct ever occurred.”

“And the third?”

They had shifted closer, leaning in without registering that they were encroaching upon the space that any other officer would have classified as unprofessional, uncomfortable, strange. But even here, Jim still felt as if trapped behind glass, unable to truly bridge the gap that had stood so long.

The air shivered between them.

“To continue.” His voice was low, rich as velvet, seductive in its possibilities. “To…pursue the other, to redefine our relationship on intimate terms.”

An intoxicating notion, one that stirred his hidden longing to the surface. Yet he had to be certain that he was not alone in these feelings.

“You neglect to calculate an important proviso in my decision.” Jim drifted his hand close to where Spock’s rested upon the sheets. “A captain always asks for his first officer’s recommendation, after all.”

A tinge of green had entered Spock’s complexion. They were near enough that Jim could discern a light brown within his black eyes.

“Jim.” The name made his heart stutter. Spock’s gaze darted down to his lips, back up. “Do you recall act one, scene four of Twelfth Night?”

“Am I inconstant, sir, in my favour?” Jim murmured, mind scrambling to track the lines in his head, prepare for the words Spock would use to undo him.

“Thou know’st no less than all. I have unclasped to thee the book even of my secret soul.”

Slowly, his hand drifted upward, into the space between them.

“My halves could not express the truth fully, yet they were, in their way, truthful. I do not revile emotion, but I wish to be cautious of its hazards. I do not burn with lust, and yet I desire closeness with another. I have battled all my life to find the correct balance between the two, and this struggle has often come at the cost of withholding my... feelings. Yet I find no reason to withhold them now.”

And at last, like sunlight piercing through darkness, Jim saw the radiant look of love that he had once seen in a human, shining in these half-Vulcan eyes.

Spock’s hand came to stroke his cheek, gentle but sure.

“Jim, you are my balance. There is no logic in concealing the fact that I wish only to be at your side, or that I love you.”

Jim drew a gasp, against all his pride, struck to the heart despite having heard the human’s declaration of the same. There was no compare, no greater joy than this.

Spock, however, retreated at the sound.

“I understand, of course, the inconvenience this brings—”

“No—Spock, I feel the same!”

Jim rushed to close the space between them, trembling with relief, joy, adoration.

“Sweetheart, my darling— Spock, oh, God, why did I ever wait? I’m yours, all yours.”

Spock’s eyes grew wide, unguarded. His hands rose to Jim’s, curled around them with sudden optimism.

“You—? Are you certain?”

“Yes.” Jim brought one hand to his lips. “Spock, yes.” The other. “I love you.”

“Oh!”

Spock pulled him forward, hands coming to cup his face. Melting into his embrace, Jim felt his love for Spock soar as their lips met gently, tenderly, deeply. They lingered together for a long time, hands and lips moving in soft cadence, joining and re-joining not daring to leave this newly won bliss for too long.

With a last brush of lips, satisfied this was not a dream, they parted, moving back only so far as to allow breath between them. Jim delighted at the sensation of Spock’s forehead leaning into his own, the shy negotiation of their noses as they kissed without kissing.      

“This is a most agreeable development,” Spock murmured, dulcet and low.    

He couldn’t help but laugh, more of a giggle in his euphoria. The little hum of pleasure that harmonized sent ripples of joy through him.

Emboldened, Jim shifted closer, moved to lay his head against the curve of Spock’s neck, lost in the wonder of love and being loved.   

A timid hand came to his head, left a ghostly caress along its curve.

“Do I content you, Jim?”

“Of course, Spock.” He kissed the underside of Spock’s jaw, whispering, “You make me so happy.”

Spock pulled back slightly, so that they looked into each other’s eyes.

“Before we continue – and I do wish to continue,” he assured, tracing the length of Jim’s cheek. “It is only fair to acknowledge the realities of who I am – who you are agreeing to love.”

Jim leaned into his touch, nodding his assent.

“I am not human.” Two fingers brushed across Jim’s lips; he shut his eyes, allowing himself simply to listen. “While I love you, quite deeply, it is not in the manner a human might feel love, not even as my purely human half loved you. There remain aspects of intimacy that are against my nature, myself – acts I will be unable to provide.”

Jim opened his eyes. Spock lowered his hand to Jim’s chest, closed over his heart.

“You may trust in this. My feelings for you are not perfunctory, or transient. I wish to be your partner, to belong to you equally as I hope you may belong to me. But I wish also for you to be happy, in all ways possible. It is therefore necessary to provide you with such information, however unfavourable to our love it may be.”

“I understand.” He leaned into his embrace, silently delighting in how easy, how natural this felt. “And I appreciate your concerns. But you don’t have to worry about trying to please me. I don’t require anything more than you’ve already given me. I love you - and there are no conditions on that. Even if we stopped here, or if you wanted to return to our friendship, it would be enough to just be with you.”

Spock sighed, and Jim pulled back, thinking it was a sign of displeasure, hurt. But he merely moved his hand to a familiar position against his cheek, and a sudden tendril of silver thought curled into Jim’s mind. _Contentment, appreciation. How I love thee._

Jim smiled. _And how I love you._

When Spock pulled away, the shimmering thread of his mind still lingered – though perhaps it was simply the glow of love that seemed to radiate in all places they touched.

“I will endeavour to fulfil your needs nevertheless, Jim.”

Jim smiled, ran a finger down the bridge of his nose playfully. “And I will never push you to anything outside your nature. You only have to ask, sweetie.”

Spock raised a brow. “You may start by refraining from that particular epithet.”

That made Jim laugh. “Too cutesy?”

“It is not ideal.” Still, Spock relinquished a small smile. “You may continue to employ other endearments, however, should you wish.”

“Oh?” The suggestion gave him particularly mischievous ideas. “Like…honey?”

“Mm.” Spock tilted his head, obviously playing coy. “Perhaps.”

“My love? Darling?” Jim walked his fingers up Spock’s chest with each name, grinning at the slight warning that flashed in his love’s dark eyes. “Baby? Boo? Pumpkin?”

“You are teasing me,” Spock said, with some suspicion. “These are not real terms of affection.”

“Yes they are!” The protest was perhaps not as convincing as Jim laughed at Spock’s doubtful frown. “Consult the Standard lexicon, Mr. Spock – you’ll see that those are all perfectly valid names.”

“I do not see how that is possible. There is no romantic appeal in being referred to as a gourd.”

He giggled. “For you, maybe.” Jim tapped his finger on Spock’s lips, grinning when Spock pursed them slightly to kiss the touch. “I know plenty of people who would love for me to call them a gourd.”

“Evidently a strong factor as to why you are with me, and not them.”

“Of course. Ok, no vegetables.” Wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck, Jim wracked his brains for more saccharine endearments. “Hmm. You probably wouldn’t like being called anything like bunny or sweet-cheeks, would you?”

“No. And I am certain you have collected enough.” His voice was obscured slightly as he drew into Jim’s embrace. “There are only so many names one can bear, _t’hy’la_.”

“Hey!” Jim pulled back, with a mock-offended look. “That's cheating! You can’t just drop Vulcan pet names into conversation without warning me first.”

“Apologies, _ashayam_.”

“I’m serious!” He swatted Spock lightly, trying to hold back his laughter. “You have an unfair advantage.”

“I believe the human expression ‘all is fair in—”

“Definitely does not apply here.”

Spock lifted one shoulder in a shrug, seeming to enjoy himself. “If that is your wish, captain, I will refrain from using any endearments.”

“Now I didn’t exactly say that, commander.”

Jim moved closer, sliding a leg around Spock’s waist so they could sit practically on top of each other.

Their fingers wound together of their own accord – Jim found himself grinning without really knowing the reason. Something, he figured, about the tenderness in Spock’s gaze, the soft kisses they had fallen back into.

Sighing, Jim leaned in to the affection.

“What does that mean, anyway – _ash—ashayam_?” Spock gave a small ' _hm_ 'of approval on the pronunciation. “And the other one – _tuh..._ no, don’t tell me, I’ll get it – _tai-luk_?”

A low series of hums sounded by his ear – but when he looked up to see, Spock turned sharply away. Jim started, concerned, but then spotted the curve of his mouth, and realized—

“Are you laughing at me?” he cried, too pleased to be truly offended.

“Forgive me,” Spock said, and his voice wobbled slightly, obviously struggling to restrain the frivolous emotion. “But you have very nearly called me a mushroom.”

It surprised Jim enough that he collapsed into laughter, having to clutch his sides to contain himself. The Vulcan nudged him gently, which only made him giggle more. From the slight bounce of Spock’s shoulders, it seemed to be infectious.

“S-Spock!” Jim managed through laughs, leaning into his shoulder. Spock pushed back gently, placing a kiss on a particularly ticklish spot on his neck. “Ah! No, stop it!”

At once, Spock pulled away. “Oh! Please forgive me, _ashayam_.”

“Wh—? No.” Jim blinked, having not expected Spock to comply so readily. Seeing the concern in his expression, however, he softened. “It’s ok. I just meant I was ticklish. Come here.”

They met in a kiss.

“I appreciate your compliance, though,” he murmured into his lips. “It's nice to know you respect my boundaries."

"It is only logical, Jim."

"Of course. And I’d like it very much if you took advantage of that particular weakness of mine later.”

“But not now?”

“No.” Jim brought his bottom lip under his teeth momentarily. “Not until my stomach’s recovered, at least.”

Still, glancing at Spock, and seeing his amused half-expression, he couldn't help but giggle a little more. 

Lying back on the bed, he was pleased when Spock came to join him.

“I love you.” He pursed his lips, teasingly. “My little mushroom.”

“Oh, no.” Spock took his hand, reproach in his gaze. “I am not the mushroom. It was your mistake that introduced the subject at all. If anyone is the mushroom, it is you.”

“I don’t mind that.” Jim cuddled closer, pleased when Spock folded an arm around his waist. He leaned into Spock’s shoulder, smiling up at him. “What do you think? Am I your little mushroom?”

A wry look, no doubt at the illogic of their conversation, crossed his expression. “Something like that,  _k’diwa_.”

And Jim was so happy he didn’t even notice the new name.

They lay in each other’s arms, without regard for time, breaths falling in syncopated rhythm. Jim let his eyes flutter closed, nuzzling gently into the smooth fabric of Spock’s uniform.

It was almost odd, Jim thought, that this was the first he had ever lain in Spock’s arms. Perhaps he had longed for this kind of affection so dearly, pictured it so often, that it seemed normal, comfortable, just _them_. Certainly, he thought, he could get used to this.

Above him, Spock moved to press gentle kisses through his hair. Jim breathed a small sigh into his chest, slid his arms around him.   

“I love you,” he mumbled, drowsily. “Thank God you're back. I was so afraid of losing you.”

“I, too, have feared such a prospect.”

“Have you really?” Jim frowned, wondering what other fears Spock had kept hidden from him. “I’m sorry if I ever contributed to it.”

Spock hummed. “Never directly.”

“Indirectly, though?”

“You are not to blame.” Spock’s cheek came to rest atop his head. “You are a dynamic and personable individual. There are many who wish for your love, many whom I believed might better serve your needs. It did not seem possible that of so large a field, I would emerge the most attractive candidate. Or the most compatible.”

He’d never considered it from Spock perspective. How often, he wondered, had his dutiful friend observed him with hidden pain, as Jim flirted with their enemies, embraced prior lovers – believing he could never be worthy of the same?

Such beliefs ended here. Jim hugged him tighter, fiercer than ever.

“There was never anyone else. It was always you. And it always will be, if that’s what you want.”

Spock said nothing. The silver thread of thought between them vibrated gently, spoke of longing, contentment, forever. _I shall never part from thee, t’hy’la_. _I have been and always shall be yours._

There were no words to express how deeply that struck him. He pressed his face into Spock’s chest, so grateful to have him by his side.

Gingerly, Spock’s hand stole into his own.

“I do not mean to interrupt our affections, Jim,” Spock said, lips pressing briefly to his forehead. “However, there remains the consideration of our conduct going forward. We are, in effect, committing to an extended breach of protocol.”

“I must say, you breach protocol beautifully, Mr. Spock.”

A little hum of amusement. “Thank you, captain.”

Opening his eyes, he shifted backward, so that they might see each other better.

“There are ways around regulation.” With his thumb he traced assuring circles into the back of Spock’s hand. “We’ll have to be discreet, of course, but we have the advantage of our friendship, and the closeness necessitated by our rank. In the eyes of Starfleet, I think we’ll be fine.”

“Should we be found—”

Jim squeezed his hand. “I will never let that happen.”

Spock raised an amused brow at his determination. “That is not my concern. An accidental discovery, however, is possible. It is prudent to lay the necessary precautions for such a chance.”

Spock rose onto his side, Jim followed.

“There has been one common factor in all litigations of romantic misconduct between officers that has allowed the accused to avoid reprimand, according to my research.”

He grinned. Leave it to Spock to have already studied how to evade regulations.

“Which is?”

“The presence of a high ranking witness. Those cases in which senior officers spoke in favour of their superiors resulted in ninety-two point five-four percent success, with the highest rates in instances with witnesses of a… particular office.”

That already had implications, and Jim could predict what they were. He grinned.

“A certain medical office, perhaps?”

If he wasn’t half-Vulcan, Jim would have called Spock’s expression a smirk. “Precisely.”

“Mr. Spock,” he said, approving the suggestion with a kiss. “I believe we have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. This chapter turned out incredibly fluffy and gooey, but ya gotta love it, right? 
> 
> Only one chapter left! What could possibly be in the works? Let me know your thoughts in the comments! :)


	11. Kiss and Tell

“Remind me to never use that damn transporter, ever again.”

After an hour and a half debriefing on the Delta X Incident, as Starfleet now called it, they were the first words out of Bones’ mouth. It was truly amazing, Jim thought, how McCoy never failed to take spectacular feats of scientific achievement and boil them down to a single complaint.

“I do not believe you have anything to worry about, doctor.” Spock followed close behind, as they strode back to their respective duties. “Being so consumed by your emotions, I wonder if there would be enough material to split in two.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile, less at the jab than at McCoy’s squint in response, which made him look like a cowboy challenged to a duel.

“Yeah, alright, have your logical laugh. But don’t act like I didn’t babysit your emotions for whole day. Your _very real_ emotions.”

“For which I am grateful.” Spock stopped beside McCoy, as they arrived at the turbo lift. Jim pressed the signalling button. “Although I believe you stood for most of that time.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.

The turbo lift opened, they filed in.

“And so concludes another strange anecdote in the annals of Enterprise history. Bridge.” Jim cranked the handle. “I’m sure we’re all glad it’s over. Aren’t we, darling?”

“Indeed, beloved.”

“Yeah, you can say that a—”

McCoy’s words stopped short, and that was all Jim cared to note as Spock moved to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

When they turned back, however, Bones’ eyes looked fit to fall out of his head.

McCoy looked at Spock. He looked at Jim. Then back. And again. When met with two neutral, definitely-nothing-wrong-here expressions, his shock plummeted into realization.

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Jim replied, leaning casually against the wall.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Language.”

He shook his head, confused.

“But why even tell—?”

Bones put a hand to his forehead, clarity striking him.

“The Doctor Precedent.”

Spock inclined his head. “Precisely.”

McCoy seemed unsure whether he wanted to scream or laugh or punch one of them.

“You understand that if this goes south - if Command catches wind of this - I’ll be as fucked as you two will be.”

“Why else,” Spock said, calmly, “would we have informed you, doctor?”

There was a long, deadly silence.

“ _Now approaching Bridge,”_ came the computerized lift signal.

“Hold lift,” said Jim, stepping forward, determined to dispel all uncertainty on what they had chosen. He felt Spock come to stand his side, a motion of unswerving complicity, a silent confirmation of all that he had pledged. 

The turbolift stopped. McCoy glanced between them quickly.

“Are you just gonna keep me—?”

“Yes, for the moment.” Jim folded his arms. “We just gave you enough information to end both of our careers. It’s only fair that you tell us what you plan to do with it.”

"To do—?"

He stopped, and as the pause lingered for a moment, Jim felt doubt begin to gnaw at him deep below his confident exterior. Because while Bones had risked his life for theirs in the line of duty time and time again, there was no precedent for this favour, or any reason why he should grant it. 

But looking between them, McCoy made a sound of disbelief, very close to laughter.

“Are you kidding me?” He shook his head. “After all the crap I’ve put up with, you think a little inter-ship romance is what’s gonna make me mutiny? Of course, I’ll keep your damn secret for you. I’m a doctor, for Pete’s sake; knowing secrets like that is practically my job description!”

“Thank you, doctor. Your loyalty is appreciated.” Nevertheless, Spock raised a challenging brow. “Despite the fact that secrets are definitely not a part of your jo—”

“Oh, stop ruining the moment, Spock, I’m trying to be nice for once.”

“Yes, I believe 'trying'is the operative word.”

Bones huffed. Spock’s brow dipped severely at the emotional reaction. Jim merely smiled. It was nice to know that as much as some things had changed, most had stayed the same.

“Resume lift progress.” Jim nodded to McCoy, sincerely grateful. “Thank you, Bones.”

The doors whooshed open, Jim and Spock strode onto the Bridge. If anyone cared to observe, they would have noticed the renewed confidence in the half-Vulcan’s posture, a pep in the captain’s step.

“Mission briefing received from Starfleet Command, captain,” said Sulu, looking to the course Chekov plotted as he spoke. “We’re to head to Starbase 1 – ahead warp factor two?”

“Wait a second! Hold your horses!”

McCoy thundered onto the Bridge, probably realizing that he'd sanctioned their illegal relationship with far too little chastisement.

“You better be giving me something! I want a pay raise!”

“A raise?” Jim smiled, sitting neatly in the captain’s chair. “For what?”

“For keeping y—”

Bones stopped. The crew of the Enterprise was looking at him, curiously. His cheeks, already red from yelling, went maroon.

“The Federation does not operate under the laws of remuneration,” Spock said, with particular rational pleasure. “And therefore your request for a raise in pay is highly illogical.”

“You’re illogical!” Bones was fit to have steam coming out of his ears, had it been biologically possible. “The both of you! And just because I said I’d go along with your stupid ideas doesn’t mean I don’t get to be mad about them either! You both owe me! I’m gonna take a six week vacation next planet we arrive on! This kinda strain has got be against Starfleet operating principles.”

Spock, at the science station, observed the tirade with distinct amusement, and stood with a measure of coolness that could only mean he was about to insult the living daylights out of McCoy.

“As you are the Chief Medical Officer aboard ship, you are best equipped to diagnose that.” He raised a brow that knew exactly what it was doing. “Bones.”

McCoy’s mouth fell open in shock. Jim had to clap a hand over his mouth to avoid getting snapped at from what would soon be a deeply irritated doctor. The rest of the crew was similarly hiding their giggles.

The doctor twitched for a moment, caught in a flurry of anger, disbelief, and likely uncountable insults for the all too smug half-Vulcan. With an indecipherable noise of frustration, he turned to Jim, shaking an emphatic fist.

“Forget what I said – I’ll take the next transporter beam outta here!”

And with that, and a petulant stomp to the turbo lift, he was gone. Once the doors shut, the crew was free to dissolve into laughter. 

Jim bit down on his smile. “Ahead warp factor two, Mr. Sulu.”

“Yes, sir.”

Glancing to Spock, Jim winked. The silver thread between them quivered with unvoiced laughter, affection, and thoughts of what would come. 

After all, a little humour kept the ship in balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we end where we started - with Bones being fed up with the shenanigans! Thanks so much to everyone who's read this story - especially those who've been reading since the beginning. I appreciate your kudos and comments so much, and I'm so glad you've all enjoyed this as much as I have writing. Love ya!


End file.
